The Nocturnal Guardian
by Songsa
Summary: HBP spoilers! After receiving an odd letter from Viktor, Hermione convinces Harry and Ron to return to Hogwarts for their final year. However, the golden trio is in for quite a surprise when they meet their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher...
1. Return to Hogwarts

_**Warning:**__** If you have NOT read Half-Blood Prince (HBP) yet then I STRONGLY advise that you do not continue reading. This story contains major HBP spoilers so if that bothers you then don't read on. If you ignore this and keep reading anyway then that's your loss. I don't want to hear any complaints that I spoiled the 6th book for you. If you have read all 6 books then please, continue on and enjoy the story. If you haven't, you have been warned…**_

**D.A.D.A:**** Defense Against the Dark Arts (To those who don't know what it stands for)**

**Disclaimer:**** I **_**do not**_** own Harry Potter or any of the characters in it. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling and her alone. **

* * *

It was the 20th of August and Hermione could be seen lying awake on her bed, her chocolate brown eyes gazing up at the twirling ceiling fan above her. Thoughts of her past year at Hogwarts began to flood her mind as they did every day of her summer.

The only man in the world who Voldemort ever feared had passed away, gone, leaving Hogwarts completely vulnerable to another attack from the Death Eaters, leaving her second home open to be destroyed. Sure they have jinxes, curses, hexes and all sorts of stuff to protect the school, but truth be told, Voldemort is not stupid. Sick, evil, hateful, low, but not stupid. He'd find a way to get back into the school, especially now that he has Snape back with him. After all, Snape was the one who helped think and put up most of those spells guarding the school. Surely he could take them down no problem.

Hermione went deeper into her thoughts and began to wonder if Voldemort really would attack the school again. Would he have a reason to? Of course he would. There are hundreds of "mudbloods" and "blood traitors" there that he would need to rid the world of and many of them are small, little first years without a clue of how to defend themselves.

The number of staff that works at Hogwarts isn't nearly enough to have an even battle with the Death Eaters if one were to break out again. Not to mention Snape also knows where all the house dormitories are and every twist and turn in the castle. He would no doubt lead the Death Eaters right to the students.

No matter how Hermione looked at it, the day Snape rejoined the Death Eaters was a very happy day for Voldemort.

And then there is Draco Malfoy. As much as Hermione despises Malfoy she could not help but feel a shred of pity for him. If what Harry had told her was true (and she knew it was) Malfoy really did not want to kill Dumbledore. He just wanted to ensure the safety of his family and who could blame him for that? Not to mention his life was at stake too. She knew he was nasty, selfish, and hateful, but evil? No. A killer? No. She felt sure of that.

Now days she can only wonder where he is at the moment: if he is ok, if he got his family back. Somehow she doubted it. After all, he was not the one who killed Dumbledore, Snape was. He failed to follow Voldemort's orders and she couldn't help but wonder if he was being punished for it or if he was even still alive…

* * *

Loud howls of agony rang out through winding dark tunnels in the interior of a large cave. Down in the dungeons the screams could be heard erupting from the throat of a young man who lay twisting and writing in pain.

His arms and legs thrashed violently about and his back kept arching up off the ground. His white-blonde hair that usually was kept clean and styled nicely now looked ragged and messy. His hair glued to his forehead as a result of the sweat that was running down his face.

Death Eaters stood against the walls and watched him twisting his body around and digging his nails into the soil beneath him. Voldemort stood a mere five feet away from the boy, his wand raised and pointed down at him.

"You will learn, Draco," Voldemort spoke quietly. "You joined my side last summer and you will learn to obey me. When I instruct you to kill I do not expect you to stand there and talk," he went on in a quiet, sinister voice just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

Draco's pale-blue eyes fell on one of the Death Eaters standing against the wall. It was the Death Eater he knew to be his father. He wanted to call out to him, to ask him to help him, help his own son, to make the pain go away. However, he could not turn his painful screams into audible words, but he knew he wouldn't have to. He knew his eyes were fixed with a look of excruciating pain and terror. He knew his father could see him. He knew he was meeting his eyes. He knew he was staring directly back at him.

Draco's heart gave a lurch with emotional pain to match the physical pain his body is going through when he realized that his father, his idol, was not going to help him. This was confirmed when Lucius turned his face away from his son and proceeded to strike up conversation with a Death Eater beside him.

It was then that another wave of pain crashed over Draco and made him feel ten times worse. However, this wave of pain was not physical pain. The second Lucius broke contact with Draco's eyes; realization struck him so hard that the pain in his head seemed to intensify by ten folds. It was like an invisible contract had been signed. For the first time in Draco's life he is alone. The turn of his father's face had made that official.

After what seemed like an eternity, Voldemort finally lowered his wand, pulling the Cruciatus Curse off. Draco's body fell limp on the ground. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. His burning eyes were still staring off at his father's cloaked figure. His very soul felt heavy with betrayal and he couldn't help but allow burning-hot tears to stream across the bridge of his nose and drip down onto the ground underneath the side of his face.

"You will learn, Draco," Voldemort repeated. "Until tomorrow," he said as he pocketed his wand and turned to leave the dungeons, his Death Eaters at his heals.

Draco's flooded eyes refused to tear away from the spot where his father had been standing just seconds ago. Even when Lucius had walked out through the dungeon door, he still stared unblinkingly at that spot. He barely heard the dungeon door _boom_ shut and he was left completely alone, on the ground, in the blinding darkness.

* * *

It was around 2:00am when Hermione stirred from her slumber and sat up. It took her a moment to register what exactly had woken her up until a faint taping noise reached her ears. She turned her eyes onto her window and almost screamed when she saw a set of large yellow eyes staring back at her. However, she was just able to catch herself when she realized that it was just an owl.

The owl was pitch black in color, which caused it to blend perfectly with the dark sky in its background. The only visible feature she could see of the owl were its great amber eyes. He had a bigger body then most owls and he had two tufts of feathers growing from the top of his head that made him appear to have horns.

Hermione only knows one person who owns an owl like this and the thought made her smile.

She reached over to her nightstand beside her bed and switched the lamp on. After setting her feet on the floor she made her way over to the window. She quickly unlatched it and heaved it open to allow the owl to hop inside.

"Hey there, Balzar," Hermione said softly as she stroked the owl gently on his head. The owl hooted its greeting back to Hermione and then held out his leg so she could receive the letter that was attached. After relieving Balzar of his burden she quickly opened her letter and begun to read.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope you are doing well. I am afraid I must write this letter quickly. I write to you to ask if you could please take Balzar to Hogwarts with you this year. I know this is an odd request, but please do it. You will see why when you get there._

_Yours truly,  
Viktor_

A frown was etched on Hermione's face and she looked over at Balzar. She felt a little taken aback to see that he was staring at her intently. Almost like he felt curious as to why she is frowning.

Hermione set the letter down on her desk and headed off to the bathroom to fill a cup up with water to give to Balzar. When she returned she set the cup down in front of him and he immediately began drinking greedily from it. She gently scratched behind his neck under his feathers, which caused an odd purr-like sound to emit from the owl's throat. A smile replaced her frown. Every time Viktor had sent Balzar to her to deliver a letter she always scratched him on the neck under his feathers and every time he would always make that unusual sound.

Hermione turned her attention away from Balzar and headed back over to her bed. She turned the light out and laid down on her back and stared up at the ceiling fan once again, now feeling wide-awake. She heard the quick, ghostly flutter of wings as Balzar flew across her room and settled himself on Hermione's headboard above her head.

Her thoughts were on Viktor's letter. He expects her to go to Hogwarts this year and to bring his owl with her for reasons that were beyond her. But she and Ron had already told Harry they'd accompany him on his search for Voldemort's last horcruxes. And while she wouldn't hesitate to stay by Harry's side even if the world were ending, she couldn't help but feel that it wouldn't be a good idea to look for them just yet. That maybe it would be best to get one more year of magical education under their belts before they go off and begin their search.

Voldemort will surely have difficult obstacles guarding his horcruxes that they will need to overcome and Harry and Ron can't deny that they learn new and important stuff every year. Surely learning new and more powerful spells will greatly help them out. Not to mention learning to distinguish good potions from bad ones, dealing with more dangerous magical creatures, and sharpen their transfiguration and charm skills will most definitely come in handy.

With this in mind she decided that she would write to Harry first thing in the morning and ask him what he thinks. It was just then that Hermione realized that a pair of large amber eyes were staring curiously down at her. She pressed the back of her head deeper into her pillow so she could meet the eyes of Balzar. Hermione smiled up at the owl.

Balzar has stayed the night at her house enough times for her to know that when he sits on her headboard and stares at her like that it means that he wants to come down beside her. Not that she minds though. It's just like having the feathery puppy she's never had and he has never once pooped in her bed so she saw no harm in it.

"You sure are a strange owl," she pointed out as she slid under her covers but kept them held up to signal Balzar to get under. Balzar needed no further invitation. He hopped down beside Hermione's head and crawled under the held up covers. She let the covers fall as soon as she felt Balzar nest down at her side. She slid a hand under the covers to gently scratch Balzar on the back of his neck until she drifted to sleep and her hand fell limp beside the snoozing owl.

The next morning Hermione awoke to find Balzar sitting contently on her stomach and staring at her. She gently pushed Balzar aside and sat up. She then stretched her arms high over her head and yawned sleepily. Slowly and tiredly, she crawled out of bed and headed over to her dresser.

After picking out clothes to wear for the day she began to lift her nightshirt up and over her head. Her eyes unconsciously fell on Balzar who was sitting on her bed with his back turned toward her and his eyes were staring at the wall.

Hermione's expression contorted into that of confusion as she watched the owl. Now that she thought about it, she realized that every time she had dressed or undressed with Balzar in the room with her he always looked away. It was almost like he had shame. Hermione scoffed at the idea. Of course owls don't have shame.

"Did Viktor teach you to look away when a lady dresses?" Hermione asked as she pulled on her last article of clothing and began to make her way over to her desk. She sat down in her chair and pulled out a piece of paper from the desk drawer. She laid the paper on the desk in front of her then reached for a nearby pen. Balzar quickly fluttered over to the desk to join Hermione and took his place on the flat surface beside the piece of paper.

_Dear Harry,_

Hermione began but then stopped. She brought the back of the pen to her lips and began to chew on it whilst she thought of the perfect way to word out her letter best. She wanted it to sound convincing, but not pushy. Knowing Harry he'd want to leave straight away for the horcruxes. Not spend another year at Hogwarts.

_I have been doing some thinking lately and- I know this is something you're not going to want to hear- but I think we should go back to spend our last year at Hogwarts. Before you get huffy! Please hear me out._

Hermione looked down at what she had just written and begun to think. Maybe she should write out the letter so no one would understand it if Balzar where to get intercepted. Of course he is only flying through the muggle worlds, but she decided not to take any chances.

_You see, U-No-Poo_

Hermione smiled to herself as she remembered the funny sign Fred and George had outside their joke shop.

_-will obviously have dangerous and tricky obstacles guarding his horse crosses as you already witnessed when…you know. I think it would probably be best if we went back to Hogwarts for our final _

_year to- you know- Sharpen our knowledge on dangerous creatures and potions and how to use more powerful spells and charms. You can't tell me that you haven't learned a new and important thing every year. I also heard that our new D.A.D.A teacher will be really good this year and I think that's the class that is most crucial for us to learn. You see, we finish up Hogwarts and then we set out to find them. With a whole seven years of training under our belts we'll be ready for anything U-No-Poo tries to throw at us. The seventh year is suppose to be the level when we learn all kinds of tricky but useful stuff that they can't teach us in the years below 7th. Please Harry. I know it won't be the same there anymore without Dumbledore, but It's only one more year and I've never felt more strongly about anything else. Please consider this letter Harry and send Balzar (Viktor's owl) back to me with your answer. And don't even think about ignoring this and setting out on your own because if I don't get a message back from you in three days I'll leave to find you and I won't come home until I do. It's a scary world out there Harry and I really don't want to be in it alone, but if that's what it'll take for me to find you then so be it. I'm just really not looking forward to having to do that._

_-Hermione_

_P.S- If/when I get your reply and you agree with me I'll meet you in Diagon Ally on the 25th to get our school stuff. I already got the letter from Hogwarts telling us what we need to get. Even if you didn't get it yet we can go by what mine says. I'll also send a letter to Ron when/if I get your reply._

Hermione reread her letter three times to make sure she was completely satisfied with it. She then turned her attention onto Balzar and found him staring intently down at her letter at his scaly feet. If Hermione didn't know any better she'd say he was reading it.

"I doubt Viktor will mind if I use you to deliver this letter," Hermione spoke, which quickly caught the owl's attention and he looked up at her, the tufts of feathers lifting higher on his head. The owl hooted softly and obediently held his leg out for Hermione to attach the paper to.

Hermione quickly folded the paper up into a small square and secured it with a paperclip. She then took some nearby leather string and used it to attach her letter to Balzar's extended leg.

Hermione scooted her chair back and stood up from her desk and held her arm out. Balzar immediately flew up onto her offered arm and she carried him across the room to her window.

"Balzar, I need you to take this letter to my friend, Harry Potter. It's important and I need you to hurry there and back. Make sure he writes back. Pester him nonstop if you have to, ok?" Balzar hopped up onto Hermione's shoulder and affectionately nibbled her ear as his way of saying, "anything for you". This caused a smile to spread on Hermione's face and she reached up to her shoulder to perch the owl back on her wrist.

"Off you go then," she said cheerily and stuck her arm out the window. There was a brief second of pressure on her wrist as Balzar launched himself off and took to the sky.

Hermione stood at her window and watched him until he became no more then a dark speck that was quickly swallowed up by the clouds. She began to wonder to herself if she should have told Balzar how to get to Harry's house. Those thoughts were ceased when she realized that if he could fly hundreds of miles from Bulgaria and find her house and Hogwarts he could surely find Harry's house forty miles away.

For the next two days Hermione waited in anticipation for Balzar's return. Whenever she left her room she always made sure to leave her window open. It wasn't until late that night on the second day when she heard a tapping noise on her window.

Hermione looked up at her window and her heart leapt with happiness to see the familiar large, amber eyes of Balzar staring back at her. Hermione jumped up from her chair and hurried over to her window to pry it open. Instead of hopping down onto her windowsill, Balzar fluttered up to Hermione's shoulder and gently nipped her ear affectionately.

"It's good to see you too. I'm glad you made it back safely," said Hermione as she lifted the owl off her shoulder and carried him over to her bed where she set him down.

"I trust that you made sure he wrote back?" Hermione asked as she eyed the folded piece of paper tied to Balzar's leg. Balzar puffed up his dark-feathered chest proudly and held out his leg. The smile faded from Hermione's face as she untied the folded piece of paper and opened it up with bated breath. She flopped down on her bed and began to read the letter quietly to herself.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I don't want you wandering around looking for me, so if it means that much to you then I'll go back to Hogwarts. I just got a letter from Moony and he wants me to stay at Hogwarts too. He, and two other aurors will be patrolling Hogsmead again this year and he wants us to keep an eye on things at the school and alert them if we notice anything suspicious. I guess since we're of age now they want us to help them out. I guess we're playing spies this year Hermione. But we can't tell anyone other then Ron. Moony couldn't have made that clearer in his letter. I'll write to Ron now and tell him what's going on. I'll see you and Ron on the 25th.  
-Harry_

Hermione grinned as she crumpled the letter up and tossed it aside. She reached her hand out to scratch Balzar gratefully on the back of his neck, which he seemed to greatly appreciate.

The thoughts in her head made Hermione's grin grow brighter. They are going back to Hogwarts. Once again she can wonder around the corridors and ancient hallways of her second home. Once again she can shop for school supplies with her two best friends. Once again she and Ron have to patrol the train together, this time as head boy and girl of Gryffindor and then meet up with Harry later. Once again she and her two best friends can sit in the hall and wonder who their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would be for the year.

Hermione swung her legs over her bed and settled her feet on the floor. She moved her feet toward her dresser and pulled her pajama drawer open. She then extracted a large shirt and began to strip her clothes off. Her eyes fell on Balzar who, once again, had his back turned on her and he was staring at the wall in front of him.

Hermione, though weird as she thought it was, decided to brush the owl's odd behavior away.

'_Viktor probably just taught him to do that as some stupid joke,'_ she thought to herself with a shrug.

After dawning the oversized shirt she headed back to bed and slipped under the covers. Balzar did not hesitate to waddle over to her pillows where he nested down beside Hermione's cheek and it wasn't long until the pair drifted off to sleep.

* * *

True to her word, Hermione met up with Harry and Ron in Diagon Ally. She had left Balzar behind in her room, which he didn't seem to mind. He had taken his place atop her headboard and dozed off with his head tucked under his wing by the time she had walked out her bedroom door.

Her time in Diagon Ally with her two best friends was extremely enjoyable as usual. However, she wouldn't admit it aloud, but she had been secretly keeping an eye out for Draco Malfoy. Although, she did not feel surprised to see neither eye nor ear of him. She looked at Harry and knew that he was doing the same thing. Hermione knew he wouldn't admit it, but she had a feeling that he wondered about Malfoy too.

When they had collected all their necessities for school, Harry went off with Ron to spend the rest of the summer at the Burrow. They had invited Hermione to come along as well, but she thought it best to spend the rest of the summer at home with her parents. She couldn't quite explain it, but she had a strange hunch, a gut feeling that she would not be seeing them for longer then a year.

* * *

On the first of September Hermione found herself pushing a trolley through platform nine and three quarters, Balzar perched on her shoulder. Saying goodbye to her parents seemed harder to do then it had ever had before. For some strange reason Hermione just could not shake the nagging feeling that she would not see them again for a _long_ time and it wasn't because she was leaving for school.

After crossing the barrier, she immediately caught site of Ron's standout red hair and then saw Harry at his side, both holding the handles of their trolleys. A smile spread across her face and she hurried over to them.

Before long Hermione, Harry, and Ron had stowed their luggage away in an empty compartment. Harry agreed to keep an eye on Crookshanks as Hermione opened his cat carrier and let him loose. She then set off with Ron to do their usual patrolling of the train (Balzar still remained perched upon Hermione's shoulder).

"Hermione, why couldn't you have left that ruddy bird back in the compartment with Harry?" Ron asked when they had made it halfway down the train.

"Why, what's wrong with him?" Hermione replied.

"He's creepy that's what's wrong with him," Ron retorted. "Don't you see the way he's glaring at me? And those feathers sticking up on his head looks more like devil horns if you ask me!"

"Oh honestly, Ron. You're making a big deal over an owl. You see them every day and I assure you this one's no different," said Hermione as she poked her head into a compartment full of nervous first years.

"I don't know, Hermione. There's something weird about that owl. I don't trust it," Ron said as he passed a wary look at Balzar over his shoulder. Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

"Balzar's harmless. Look he's as sweet as a kitten," Hermione pointed out as she stroked Balzar's feathery tummy in an attempt to prove her point.

"Yeah, real sweet," Ron muttered sarcastically. "Whose owl is that anyway?"

"He's Viktor's owl," Hermione stated firmly, knowing full well the kind of response she'd get from Ron.

"_Krum_?" he snarled.

"How many Viktors do you know?" Hermione responded.

"What are _you_ doing with _his _owl?" Ron demanded.

"If you must know," Hermione began, clear annoyance laced in her voice. "He asked me to bring Balzar with me to Hogwarts."

"Why?" Ron blurted.

"I don't know. He just asked me to in his last letter. Besides, Balzar isn't a burden on me. In fact I kind of like having him around. Why do you care anyway?" Hermione snapped. She could feel her patience running thin.

"You only like having that bloody owl around because he reminds you of your _dear Vicky_, doesn't he?" Ron retorted with a glare. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and stared coldly at Ron, her hands placed firmly on her hips.

"Maybe he does," she said coolly before she strode forward and past Ron. It may have been Ron's imagination, but he could have sworn that the black, great horned owl turned his head around to pass a cold glare at Ron before Hermione disappeared amongst a crowd of 6th years.

When their patrolling job was through, Hermione and Ron headed back to the compartment that they had left Harry in. Neither Ron nor Hermione had said another word to each other since their most recent argument.

Ron enclosed his hand around the brass handle of the compartment door and slid it open.

Harry could be seen sitting opposite of Neville and Luna Lovegood. Neville was eating sweets that Harry had no doubt shared with him (he was eating sweets too) and Luna, as usual, was reading an issue of _The Quibbler _upside-down.

Ron and Hermione entered the compartment and Hermione took the empty seat beside Harry.

Hermione found the rest of the train ride fairly enjoyable and even a little relaxing. She had quite a few laughs with Harry and even Ron, after he stopped complaining about Balzar being "creepy".

The ride, for the most part, was pretty uneventful. Not counting the moment Harry tried to scratch Balzar behind his neck like Hermione had demonstrated. Apparently Balzar doesn't like to be touched by anyone other than Hermione. For the owl screeched angrily before whirling around and latching onto Harry's finger with his sharp, hooked beak.

After Harry had shook the owl from his bleeding appendage, Balzar swooped up onto the luggage rack above their heads and stared down, particularly at Harry, Ron, and Neville. When he wasn't sitting up on the luggage rack, he was making himself comfortable on Hermione's knee. Although, wherever he sat, he seemed to make sure to keep Hermione within his sight.

Throughout the ride, Hermione would throw quick glances at the sliding door every now and then as if expecting, _almost_ hoping, it to open and reveal the snot-nosed, blond-haired Malfoy as it usually does on just about all their train rides to Hogwarts. He would come in to start trouble with Harry and Ron or to just make his existence known or something, but not this time. The door remained shut the whole ride and wasn't opened by anyone except the sweets cart lady. This, though Hermione wouldn't admit out loud, disturbed her a little bit.

When the train came to a full stop in front of the Hogsmead train station, Hermione and Ron quickly set to work on helping the many first years off the train. Balzar went along for the ride on Hermione's shoulder.

While weaving in and out of the crowd of students, Hermione noticed that Blaise Zabini had taken Malfoy's place as head boy of Slytherin and he was just as rough with the first years as his good friend was.

Hermione decided to have a word with Blaise about his behavior toward the first years. Not that she thought it would do anything, that she is sure of, but she couldn't just stand around and watch him shove them around and not say anything.

"I'll be right back," she said to Ron before she began to make her way down the crowded lane toward Blaise. To Hermione's great surprise, as soon as she passed by an open window, Balzar spread his wings and swooped out, leaving Hermione behind and out of his sight for the first time in hours.

Hermione watched with confusion etched on her features as Balzar flew away and out of sight. His black plumage blended perfectly with the night sky.

Figuring that he would probably come back to her later that night, she shut the window and continued down the lane toward Blaise who, to her slight relief, had left the first years and had disappeared amongst the crowd. Hermione jumped back into her Head Girl element and proceeded to help the now even more startled first years.

After Ron and Hermione had made sure all the first years had made it to Hagrid for their traditional trip across the lake, they met up with Harry who was standing out of the way of the train exit and craning his neck above the crowd in search for their faces.

"What happened to that owl?" Ron asked in a voice that was anything but concerned.

"He flew out a window, but I'm sure he'll be back," Hermione replied.

"Oh, great," Ron said sarcastically, but Hermione ignored him.

The trio stepped off the train and turned to walk alongside it, heading for the thestral-drawn carriages that would take them to Hogwarts as they do every year.

"I wonder who our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be this year," thought Harry aloud as he walked along Hermione's left side.

"Can't be anyone worse then Umbridge or Snape," commented Ron, but quickly regretted it when Harry's jaw noticeably tightened at the mention of Snape's name.

"Oh I bet it'll be someone brilliant. After what happened last year McGonagall will want someone good," said Hermione excitedly.

"Hopefully," was Harry's only reply. The thought of the events last year still troubled him greatly.

"It'll probably be someone really cool. Someone who knows their stuff. Someone who knows every dark arts spell in the book. Someone who is like-"

"-_Viktor_!" Hermione shrieked, cutting Ron off of his sentence. Before Ron or Harry could respond, Hermione was off in a _whoosh _of black robes and was dashing through the crowd, carelessly shoving past people and ignoring the annoyed looks she was receiving from them.

Sure enough, when Harry and Ron looked ahead of Hermione to see whom she is running to, they saw none other than Viktor Krum standing underneath the light of a lit lamppost.

He was standing amongst the crowd, but he stuck out like a sore thumb and it wasn't just because he was the only one not wearing robes like everyone else. He stood taller then most of the people around him and, to Ron's silent annoyance, buffer. His upper body reminded Harry faintly of a wrestler. His hair was cropped very short and he had a distinct glint in his eye.

Harry noticed that the scowl he had always worn on his face the last time they met was completely unknown now and in its place, a broad grin. His muscular arms were stretched out, welcoming Hermione to a great bear hug.

Those strong arms enclosed around Hermione's much smaller frame when she reached him and effortlessly swept her off her feet. He twirled her around once in a circle, his smile only growing brighter before he set her back down on her feet. Hermione's cheeks were now noticeably pink and she was smiling from ear to ear.

"_Krum_…" Harry heard a hissed voice and turned his attention onto Ron who looked anything but happy.

"Oh it's so good to see you!" Hermione exclaimed as she circled her arms around Viktor's neck for another hug, which he instantly returned, this time keeping her feet on the ground.

"It is good to see you too, Herm-own-ninny."

Harry was not surprised to hear that Krum's accent had not wavered very much at all since the last time they met.

"I can't believe it's you. What're you doing here? I thought you were training to apply for a job," Hermione rushed breathlessly as she touched the palm of her hand to Krum's cheek as if to make sure he were real.

"Vell, I did. And I got that job," Viktor replied, his smile never faltering. "I vork her now. I am the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. This is the job that I vrote to you about," Viktor went on. Hermione looked stunned.

"You see, after the Tri Vizard… tournament-" he spoke a little slowly, obviously trying to make sure to keep his sentences clear "-I began to study the… requirements for teaching. I vas vanting to spend time vith you and I know that you are busy vith school. So, instead of vaiting for you to finish vith school, I decided to go to school to you".

"_Krum,_" Harry heard Ron hiss again.

"I have past all the tests and… Mc-Gona-gall-" he had to say her name a little slowly to make sure he'd said it right. "-approved of me for the job and vell… here I am".

"I'm so happy for you! This is great, Viktor! I mean-" Hermione stopped, her smile had overcome her stunned expression. "-_Professor_ Krum" she corrected herself.

Krum's smile faltered slightly and he waved his hand dismissively in the air.

"No, Herm-own-ninny, I vood like you to still just call me Viktor. Only call me 'Professor' in classes," said Viktor.

"Well, alright then. But promise me you will grade my work like you would grade any of the other students in the class. If I deserve a D on my papers then give me that D, Ok?" Hermione firmly stated.

Viktor's smile brightened again and a small chuckle erupted from his chest.

"Herm-own-ninny, I vill not accept any less than your very best in my class".

"Thanks. Oh!" It had just dawned on Hermione that she has two other friends that are still walking toward them. She seized Krum's hand and gently towed him toward Harry and Ron.

"_Krum,_" Ron hissed again before Hermione and Viktor got too close to hear him.

"Viktor, you remember Ron," Hermione began. Krum's cheerful expression faded back into his usual scowl and he simply nodded at Ron.

"_Krum,_" Ron hissed in response, clearly trying to make his voice friendly but it didn't work too well to say the least. Krum didn't seem bothered by it though.

"And Harry, of course," Hermione finished. Viktor's scowl lightened slightly when his dark eyes fell on Harry. Viktor then extended his hand out to Harry, which Harry quickly seized in a friendly handshake. Harry felt satisfied that he and Krum now stand at about the same height.

"How's the Bulgarian team going?" Harry asked. Krum carelessly shrugged his broad shoulders at this question.

"I quit the team a vile back," Krum said nonchalantly, clearly not caring too much about the team.

"Other things had come up that I vas needing to vork on and had no more time to practice vith them. But I do miss playing seeker, I am thinking. I have not played quidditch in a vile," Krum sighed as he finished his sentence, clearly missing the days of chasing the golden winged ball. Harry took notice of this and gave Krum an approving look.

"If you want, you can come down to the fields and practice quidditch with me and my team. It'd be great to have a training partner," Harry offered sincerely. What better training partner could there be for the seeker position then a world famous, professional seeker?

A small, but sincere smile returned to Krum's features at Harry's offer. He had always liked Harry and respected him even though they're four years apart and he was his top competitor in the Tri Wizard Tournament. His respect for him only grew after he found out that Harry had actually dueled with the Dark Lord himself and lived to tell the tale.

"I vood like that," Krum answered truthfully.

* * *

"I brought your owl, but he flew away from me while I was on the train. I'm sorry," Hermione explained. She, Viktor, Harry, Ron, Neville, and Luna had found an empty carriage and had all piled into it. Viktor shared the seat with Luna and Hermione across from the seat that held Harry, Ron, and Neville.

Neville looked a little star-stricken to be sitting in a carriage with one of the world's greatest seekers. Ron looked angry, Harry looked nonchalant, and Luna was too busy reading her magazine upside-down to pay very much notice to Krum at all.

"It is alright. I am thinking he vent off to hunt. He vill come back. He alvays does," he assured.

Hermione nodded and proceeded to grow deep in conversation with Viktor, much to Ron's annoyance. She had missed talking to him in person. She found him to be very easy to talk to and she hardly even noticed his accent anymore.

The time seemed to fly by and before Hermione knew it, the thestrals had pulled their towed carriages up in front of the Hogwarts steps. The passengers climbed out and Harry was sure to give the thestral a thankful pat on the neck before he, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, and now Victor mounted the stone steps to enter the castle through the massive oak doors.

_

* * *

_

**A/N:** "guarding his horse crosses"

**If you're confused about the "horse crosses" thing I did that on purpose. The trio doesn't want Voldemort to know that they know about his horcruxes and that they will be looking for them. So Hermione deliberately spelled "horcruxes" out to be, "horse crosses" incase Balzar got intercepted.**


	2. Viktor's First Day of Teaching

**A big thanks to everyone who reviewed. You made me very happy to know that people out there like my work enough to take a minute out of their day to tell me how they feel. Thank you!**

* * *

The group split apart and went their separate ways when they entered the Great Hall. Luna headed over to the Ravenclaw table while the Gryffindor boys went over to the Gryffindor table. Hermione, however, stayed at the door with Viktor. Harry had a feeling that Viktor probably felt a little nervous about sitting at the High Table. He figured Hermione must have stayed behind to give him words of encouragement.

After Harry, Ron, and Neville sat down at their table, Ron's head hastily turned toward Hermione and Viktor, a look of utter rage evident on his features. Harry thought to say something. He knew this would probably turn into a heated argument when they got in the common room that he would have to tune out. Harry sighed exasperatedly and chose to say nothing. Why should he have to get involved in some petty little argument that doesn't even concern him?

* * *

"If you can, try to avoid sitting next to Slughorn. He's that man right there," Hermione pointed a casual finger toward the High Table at Slughorn. Krum's eyes followed Hermione's finger and landed on Slughorn who was talking with Madam Hooch.

"He really is very nice, but he's got this thing for famous wizards. Knowing him he's probably already just dying to talk to you. If you let him, it'll be morning by the time he leaves you alone," Hermione explained. She looked up into Viktor's face and almost laughed. He had been trying to cover up his nervousness, but now it showed more than ever.

"You'll be alright. Try to sit with professor Flitwick. That's him there," Hermione pointed out Flitwick who was sitting five chairs away from Slughorn.

"Or professor Sprout. She's right there," Hermione said as her finger pointed in the direction of the Herbology teacher who sat way at the other side of the table from Slughorn at the very end.

"Or professor McGonagall when she comes in." Viktor nodded, but he still didn't look too thrilled about sitting at the staff table. Hermione smiled up at Viktor and she took his hand in hers. She then gave it a comforting squeeze, which caused a small smile to form on Viktor's face.

"You'll be fine. I promise. If you can dive hundreds of feet head first from the sky at top speed on a broom stick then I know you can eat dinner with a bunch of teachers," Hermione continued, her smile never wavering. Viktor laughed at this. Hermione always seemed to have that effect on him. To make him laugh and smile, something that he doesn't really do all that often, he admitted to himself.

"All right Herm-own-ninny, you have convinced me," Viktor said with sigh, but still keeping his smile in place. Hermione looked completely pleased with herself.

"I probably won't be able to talk to you again until tomorrow, so I'll see you then," Hermione stated, her voice lighthearted and comforting. She and Viktor then parted, their hands slipping out of each other's grasp as they went their separate ways.

A broad grin had plastered itself on Hermione's face as she headed toward Harry and Ron. Harry couldn't help but notice a small bounce in her step and she looked extremely happy and completely oblivious to the fact that many students in the hall were watching her. Many of them were girls and they were giving her some pretty unflattering looks. She took her place beside Harry (putting him between her and Ron) and immediately turned her attention onto Ginny who she became engrossed in conversation with.

It wasn't much longer until the great oak doors opened again. Only this time, professor McGonagall came in leading a large group of first years. They walked down beside the Ravenclaw table and came to a stop in front of the staff table.

The whole Great Hall watched as McGonagall came in with a stool in one hand and the old hat in her other. Hermione figured that even though she is now Headmistress of Hogwarts, she obviously still likes to be the one to carry the old sorting hat in.

When McGonagall set the hat on top of the stool, Hermione's eyes fixed on Viktor (he had chosen to sit with professor Sprout). She wanted to see his reaction of the sorting hat. She could only wonder how they run things at Durmstrang. Did they have houses there too? She took mental note to ask him later.

Without warning, the hat suddenly sprung to life and began to sing its traditional song. Hermione smiled as she took notice of the slightly surprised look on Viktor's face. They obviously did not use a sorting hat at Durmstrang.

When the hat had finished the sorting began. One by one the 1st years were sorted into their houses. McGonagall then took the hat and stool away. When she came back, Hermione noticed that she did not sit down in the fancy, Headmaster's chair, but beside it. This saddened Hermione. McGonagall must still greatly feel the loss of Dumbledore and still not feel obligated enough to sit in his chair.

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron and saw that they too were watching McGonagall. They both wore expressions of sympathy on their faces and Hermione too felt sorry for McGonagall. She didn't seem to want to take Dumbledore's place. She still sent the letters out to the students over the summer to tell them what they needed to buy, carried the hat in, and sat in her usual chair _beside_ the headmaster's chair. Hermione wondered if she would still be their Transfiguration teacher. She would have to see tomorrow. Somehow, she felt positive that she would. Her thoughts came to a halt when hundreds of dishes of food appeared on the table before her.

When everyone in the Great Hall had eaten their fill, the plates disappeared and McGonagall stood up. The trio watched her with interest. She even looked reluctant to take Dumbledore's job of talking to the students at the end of each start-of-year feast.

"Another year at Hogwarts," McGonagall began. Her voice sounded a little forced. Like she was _trying_ to sound cheerful and welcoming to cover up her sadness. Her tone of voice, though holding a false cheerfulness to it, only saddened Hermione more.

"As most of you know…"the false cheeriness faded as quickly as it appeared- "we lost a great man last year. His name was Albus Dumbledore." The Great Hall had fallen completely silent.

Every student had his or her eyes on McGonagall. The teachers, on the other hand, stared down at the table, but Hermione could tell that they were taking in McGonagall's every word. Viktor, however, was not staring down at the table, but watching McGonagall intently. His face looked completely serious.

"Albus cared for each and every one of his students. He always went out of his way to insure their safety and their enjoyment here at Hogwarts. So… in honor of him, Hogwarts will go on as if he has never left us. As if he is still sitting in the Headmaster's chair today. I know he would want that above all else. He would want us all to continue on and not look back. He was the bravest, most intelligent man I have ever had the honor of meeting, and that is why I leave his chair empty. And I wish that none of you call me 'Headmistress', but Professor. Just like it has always been." McGonagall paused to take in every face in the Great Hall.

"Now then, I would like the Head Boy and Girl from each of the houses to lead your first years to your common rooms. Your classes will be given to you tomorrow morning at breakfast, so get your rest and be ready for your first day of school tomorrow." With that, McGonagall sat down and the Head Boys and Girls stood up.

"First years follow us!" Hermione called out as she walked down the long Gryffindor table, Ron at her heals. The first years complied and jumped up from the bench to follow Ron and Hermione. The rest of the Gryffindors took their time getting up.

Ron and Hermione lead the first years past the restrooms to show them where they are and now found themselves approaching the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Buttered pickles," Hermione said loud and clear to insure that all the first years heard. The portrait swung open and Hermione and Ron climbed in.

"This is the Gryffindor common room," Ron explained.

"If the girls will follow me I'll take you to your dormitories. Boys with Ron," Hermione instructed before she mounted the staircase that would take them to the girls dormitories.

After Hermione had saw that the first year girls were settled in their dorm room, she headed downstairs where she found Harry and Ron sitting by the fireplace. She approached them casually, but stopped when she heard Ron speak.

"I'll never know what McGonagall was thinking hiring Krum as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Ron said heatedly. Hermione's eyes narrowed in annoyance and her casual walk turned into stomps of rage.

"And why's that, Ron?" she snapped when she had made it to Harry and Ron.

"Oh come off it, Hermione. You know as well as I do that McGonagall could have gotten a way better person for the job. The only reason she must've hired Krum was because no one else wanted to take the job, I bet," he replied.

"Speak for yourself, Ron. If you ask me Viktor's the perfect choice. He studied at Durmstrang and they make sure all the students there learn all about the dark arts. He took on a full-grown dragon at the age of eighteen, not to mention he qualified to compete in the Tri Wizard Tournament and just that alone is something to be proud of. He works hard and he's smart and brave. Let's see you do that _wonky feint_ thing," Hermione retorted with a look that just dared the boys to correct her on her wrong pronunciation of the Quidditch word.

"Hermione does have a point, Ron," Harry joined in. "He was only five points behind me and Cedric. And in the maze, Crouch's son said he had gotten rid of a lot of my obstacles for me so I could get through easier. Krum still had his to get over and I bet he would have if he wasn't taken over by the Imperius curse." Harry finished; his voice was low and sounded a little sad and far off as he silently recalled the incident that happened after the maze.

Ron's face went slightly red and he scowled at Hermione and Harry.

"Well they could have gotten someone like Lupin back," Ron persisted.

"Lupin is busy with the Aurors. He doesn't have time to teach. Just you wait, Ron. You'll see. Viktor will do a great job, I know it," Hermione assured. Ron still looked unconvinced but he said no more on the subject.

A feint tapping noise caught Hermione's ear and she turned her face toward a window. She gasped when she saw a pair of great big, yellow eyes staring at her; Balzar's great big, yellow eyes.

Hermione hurried to the window and opened it to grant the great horned owl entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Balzar complied and hopped onto Hermione's offered wrist.

"Where did you fly off to, huh?" She asked in a soft voice as she stroked the owl's black, feathery back. Balzar hooted softly in response as if he were apologizing for leaving her behind. Ron snorted in the background.

"For crying out loud, Hermione, you treat that thing like a bloody pygmy puff," Ron scoffed. Hermione turned to glare at Ron and oddly, Balzar did the same.

"What is it you have against Viktor? What has he ever done to you? If I recall correctly, you're the one who asked him for his autograph before he left after the Tri Wizard Tournament," Hermione stated. Ron chose not to answer this and he turned his eyes off of Hermione and onto the fire. Hermione gritted her teeth in annoyance.

"Balzar and I are going to bed now," she said as she made her way over to the spiral staircase.

"You take that thing to bed with you too?" Ron asked in disbelief. "It's an owl, Hermione! Not a cat or a stuffed animal!" Hermione ignored this. Her patience with Ron is running dangerously thin and she feared that if she addressed him again she would shout.

"I'll see you two in the morning," was all she said before she climbed the final steps and disappeared from the room with Balzar still sitting on her arm.

* * *

The next morning, after Hermione took Balzar down to the Owlery, she headed down to breakfast. Once there she sat down with Harry (she is ignoring Ron) at the Gryffindor table. Ron and Harry were already pigging out on the plentiful food displayed in front of them.

Hermione glanced up at Viktor who had just sat down at the staff's table and was relieved to see that he looked much more relaxed about sitting there. Once again he had taken Hermione's advice and steered clear of Slughorn.

When the breakfast plates and the food had vanished, McGonagall (as she does every year) proceeded to pass out the schedules to their owners. A bright smile formed on Hermione's face as she saw that D.A.D.A would be the final class of that day.

'_What a great way to start a Monday,'_ she thought happily to herself.

The only thing that was a little down about her perfect Monday schedule was that she had dropped two of her classes that she was taking last year, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. She had figured that she should make the most out of her last year at Hogwarts and spend as much time with her friends as possible and not so much on all that extra homework. So, she had signed up to take all the same classes with Harry and Ron.

Hermione didn't wait a second longer. She jumped up from the bench and hurried off to her first class, Charms. She would meet Harry and Ron there later. Sure enough, they showed up in the class about five minutes after she had sat down. Harry sat down with Hermione, but Ron went off to sit with Seamus and Dean, which didn't bother Hermione that much at all. She knew that the less she talked to Ron today, the faster her annoyance of him would fade.

Hermione found that Charms this year would be quite difficult. Professor Flitwick had definitely been saving up the tougher stuff for their final year. They had to make a house elf from the kitchen appear on their desks with just a flick of their wand and only _think_ the incantation, not saying it. Only a few people got it. Harry and Ron didn't no matter how many times they tried. Poor Harry was still having difficulty using spells without saying the words out loud. Hermione was finally able to do it after the tenth try.

Their next class was Transfiguration and they weren't surprised to see that McGonagall was still their teacher. She had also made this class more difficult. They had to turn their desks into horses. After quite a few tries, Hermione saw that Harry and Ron had managed to pull it off. Hermione did too. She was able to turn her desk into a beautiful Lipizzaner stallion. McGonagall was so pleased that she gave Gryffindor twenty points.

Then finally, the class Hermione was most looking forward to of the day, Defense Against the Dark Arts. She couldn't wait to see what Viktor had in store for them and how he would be on his first day.

She, Harry, and Ron wasted no time arriving at his class. Viktor was sitting at his desk and he smiled at Hermione when she came in. Hermione returned his smile before taking her seat at a desk with Harry and Ron.

Before long the rest of the students came in and sat down. They looked at Viktor with star-stricken expressions on their faces. Many of the girls looked at him dreamily.

Viktor stood up from his desk and moved in front of it to face the class. He had his usual surly look on his face as he glanced over each and every face, but his eyes softened when they fell on Hermione.

"I assume you have all learned about Dementors, yes?" he asked and was answered by small nods from each pupil in the class.

"Good. How many of you know how to counter one?" Viktor asked. Harry was pleased to see that everyone that was in his D.A group raised their hands. Still, it wasn't very many. It was only the members of the D.A that are in his year. The rest of the students that were in the D.A were either a year behind him or they graduated from Hogwarts already.

Viktor nodded with satisfaction, though there was a scowl on his face.

"Potter, I have heard that you can conjure the Patronus Charm. Vood you care to show us?" Viktor asked, his dark eyes resting on Harry. Harry didn't mind at all. He got up from his seat and walked to the front of the class to stand beside Viktor. All eyes were on Harry as he raised his wand and said "_Expecto Patronum._"

At once a glowing white light in the shape of a stag sprang forth from Harry's wand. It reared up on its hind legs, pawing the air before setting off at a gallop around the classroom. Multiple gasps erupted from the class and many bodies turned in their seats to watch the stag. After making one last lap around the class, it settled itself at Harry's side and disappeared.

"Very good, Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, who else vood like to try?" Viktor asked. Multiple hands shot up in the air and Viktor's eyes began to scan around the classroom until they came to a standstill on Lavender Brown.

"You. You vill do," he said pointing at Lavender's shaky raised hand.

Harry remembered that in their last DA meeting Lavender was still having a hard time conjuring her Patronus. He watched with great interest as she slowly got up from her chair and nervously walked toward Viktor.

Hermione's attention was focused on Viktor and she quickly came to realize the main reason Lavender looked so nervous. Viktor had on his usual grumpy expression that would unnerve anyone who doesn't really know him. Fortunately, Viktor looked at Hermione and their eyes met.

Hermione smiled brightly and used her thumbs and forefingers to outline a huge, invisible smile on her face, starting from the corner of her lips to the top of her cheeks, silently signaling Viktor to get rid of the scowl.

Viktor clearly got the hint because his scowl faded away and he smiled warmly down at Lavender. A blush formed on Lavender's face as she looked back up into Viktor's now welcoming expression.

"Vot is your name?" he asked.

"L-lavender," she stuttered in a somewhat squeaky voice.

"Tell me, Lavender. Vot is your favorite song?" At this Lavender looked confused, as did the rest of the class. For a second Hermione thought this was some sort of joke. This is Defense Against the Dark Arts. What reason could Viktor possibly have for asking about music? However, Viktor's expression remained warm and sincerely interested. Clearly that question was no joke.

"Uh- 'Potion For The heart' By Cellistia," she replied nervously. Viktor nodded in understanding. He then pulled out his wand and gave it a flick. In just a second, Lavender's favorite song filled the classroom and a bright smile formed on her face.

"I vant you to close your eyes and relax. Listen to your song and think of a happy memory," Viktor spoke so calmly. "Focus on this memory… forget all other thoughts… then say the vords, '_Expecto Patronum_." Hermione found his voice to be almost soothing and she couldn't help but stare almost blankly at him.

Lavender's eyes slowly opened. She looked noticeably relaxed and she raised her wand.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" she said firmly. It only lasted very briefly, but everyone in the class caught sight of a silvery, glowing rabbit emerge from the tip of Lavender's wand. But it disappeared before its paws touched the floor.

Harry stared at Lavender and Viktor with great shock on his face. He remembered how long it took him just to get his Patronus to take shape. For quite awhile it would look nothing more then just a slivery cloud, but Viktor had gotten Lavender to fully form a Patronus, however briefly it lasted, it's still something to be proud of. It's a difficult spell and even Lupin had a bit of a time teaching Harry to do it.

Viktor nodded approvingly at Lavender before he signaled her back to her seat.

Throughout the rest of the class time Viktor had gotten most of the students up in front of the class to form their first Patronus and astonishingly, he had gotten _most_ of them to form one on their first try. Given, some had more difficulty forming one then others, particularly the Slytherins (much to the trio's amusement) but they too eventually got it.

Viktor had used the same method on each student as he did with Lavender. He played their favorite songs and instructed them with a calm and soothing voice that seemed to make Hermione's heart pound in her chest.

When the bell rang, the students got up from their seats with bright smiles on each of their faces. Hermione had told Harry and Ron that she would catch up with them later. She wanted to congratulate Viktor on his excellent first day. She waited until all the students had gone before she approached his desk.

"How vos I my first day?" He asked. Hermione smiled proudly.

"You were brilliant, Viktor!" she said truthfully. "Absolutely brilliant. We've only had one other teacher teach that spell and that was only to Harry and it took Harry quite a while to pick it up. Where'd you learn that- the music thing?"

Viktor just shrugged his broad shoulders carelessly.

"That vos how I learned to do it. Music alvays makes me think of happy memories so I thought it vood vork for the class, as vell," he explained. With a flick of his wand, Viktor conjured up a comfy chair and offered it to Hermione at his desk. Hermione smiled and sat down across from him.

"What else are you going to teach us?" Hermione asked, trying to hide the excitement in her voice. Viktor almost laughed.

"I cannot tell you that now. You vill have to vait and see," he replied.

"Fine," Hermione sighed. She figured it would be stupid of her to press the subject further.

"So, what exactly have you been up to since the Tri Wizard Tournament?" Hermione asked. She and Viktor have been sending letters to each other ever since he had left Hogwarts after the tournament, but he had always conveniently forgotten to put in exactly what he has been up too.

"You remember ven I asked you to visit me in Bulgaria, yes?" Viktor began. Hermione could feel her face began to heat up. She remembered that day all too clearly. That was also the day he told her "he has never felt the same way for any other girl." She nodded.

"Vell, you could not come because of school. And I vas… missing you," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper and he adverted his eyes. Hermione knew she was blushing. Her cheeks felt like they were burning.

"I vanted to see you again and ven Voldemort attacked Potter at the tournament I started to vurry that maybe… he vood go after you too, to get to Potter." He went on, keeping his voice low.

Hermione was a little surprised that he said "Voldemort" so easily. He didn't shutter or blink or anything. Not many wizards can do that especially nowadays. She decided not to comment on it. He still had more to say and she would not interrupt him.

"On the vay back to Durmstrang on the ship I vas thinking about vot I vood do now that I am done vith school. Ven I got home I looked at my grades from the N.E.W.T test ve took before ve vent to Hogvarts and I noticed that my grades qualified me for many things. One of them vas teaching," he lifted his eyes to meet Hermione.

"I vas vorrying that something might happen to you at Hogvarts now that Voldemort is back, so I quit my Quidditch team and started to study to be a teacher." Hermione was stunned. Viktor had quit the Bulgarian national Quidditch team for her. He had literally given up fame for her.

"Viktor, you…" she didn't know what to say. Thanks? You shouldn't have? Are you dumb?

"The team vanted me back and I vill admit… I almost considered it, but then I found out about vot happened here last year. And Dumbledore…" his voice trailed off. Viktor wasn't sure how sensitive Hermione would be to the mention of the death of her former Headmaster. He felt slightly relieved when she looked at him with understanding and silently signaled him to continue.

"I could not go back to the team. Not ven…I knew you could be in danger. Vot if the Death Eaters come back again? So, I spent the summer studying harder and on different subjects so I vood be sure to get the job here. You see… I vant to be around to… protect you. I vant to make sure that you don't get hurt or…" his eyes lowered onto the desk. Hermione could tell this was hard for him to explain so she finished his sentence for him. "Killed?"

Viktor closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn't look at her. He felt so foolish for telling her this. Why did he have to tell her this? She doesn't really need to know the true reason why he wants to teach here at Hogwarts. What if she takes it the wrong way and thinks that he's implying that she's weak? That she's not able to take care of herself?

"I am sorry, Herm-own-ninny?" Sorry for what, though? He wasn't really sure, but it felt like the right thing to say.

"You were worried about me." She stated more than asked in a breathy voice. She couldn't believe it. She knew Viktor cared about her. But she only believed that any feelings he ever held for her only lasted while he was at Hogwarts. Although, she was the "thing" that he would miss the most if "it" was taken from him in the 2nd task. He _was_ her first kiss. Hell, after the 3rd time they kissed he gave her a full-blown lesson in snogging, which she didn't mind at all, though she wouldn't admit that out loud.

Now Hermione could really feel her face burning. Her eyes fell on Viktor's lips and she began to recall the time that those lips were pressed firmly against hers. He had his arms wrapped tightly around her and he was kissing her so passionately. She remembered how that kiss made her feel. She remembered how much she liked that feeling. Last year at the Christmas party that Slughorn threw that she went to with Cormac McLaggen, he tried to kiss her passionately under the mistletoe. That feeling that Hermione got when Viktor kissed her was not there when McLaggen did. On the contrary; Hermione hated that kiss. It was forceful not passionate. Not like Viktor's kiss.

Hermione shook her head to clear her mind of these thoughts. Her face felt red hot and she was thankful that Viktor had his eyes adverted from hers so he could not see how red her face was. Although, she couldn't help but wonder if he remembers that kiss, too. But that was so long ago and they haven't seen each other in years. Surely his feelings couldn't have lasted this long. Surely they couldn't have been _strong enough_ to last this long. But Hermione couldn't deny that feeling cared for and worried about felt pretty good.

Viktor's only reply to her question was a short nod; clearly feeling too embarrassed to look at her now. A smile took over Hermione's stunned expression and she took Viktor's hand in hers. He flinched slightly at her touch. He had expected Hermione to get up and leave, or say a plain "oh" or something like that. Not take his hand.

"Thank you, Viktor."

* * *

A set of pale blue eyes stared off into the darkness. Blonde hair that had not been cut in months now fell in his dirt stained face. Wisps of hair tickled his cheeks, but he did not bother to brush them away. What time it is? He has no idea. What day it is? He has no clue. Has summer ended? Did Hogwarts start up again this year? Did his friends go back this year? Do they even miss him? He had the answers for neither of these questions. If summer had ended, then he had spent his whole summer lying on the ice-cold dirt floor at the bottom of a dark dungeon.

Draco isn't even sure what he looks like anymore. He imagines that he has gotten a lot skinnier. For he only eats once a day. When he's not eating his food he is lost in his thoughts. His thoughts, he believes, are the only thing left keeping him sane. What else could it be? He's all-alone with no support from anyone, not even from his own father and he hasn't seen his mother since he was first thrown in this dungeon. So he has no one to talk to, nothing to look at, and nothing to do.

His eyes have seen nothing but blackness for months. How many months? He doesn't know. The only light his eyes ever come in contact with nowadays is the blinding white light that shines in and causes him to flinch away when his dungeon door opens. But he doesn't flinch away because of the light; it's what comes in after the light shines and what happens to him afterwards.

Following the light is Voldemort. He comes into the dungeon day after day with his servants not far behind… including Draco's father. Routinely Voldemort stares down at Draco with those evil red eyes of his. Sometimes he smiles cruelly, but usually he just gets down to it and raises his wand, saying "_Crucio_" and Draco's punishment begins.

In his spare time, which is all day and night except during his "punishments," Draco often finds himself thinking; what if one day Voldemort left the Cruciatus Curse on him a second too long and he lost his mind like Neville's parents. What if, for waiting one happy, but painful second too long, Draco lost all rational thought? Would he lose the ability to feel pain or know he's in pain? Would he forget all the horrible memories and all the mistakes he's made? Would he lose the ability to feel sadness and regret, the two feelings that haunt him now more than any other feeling?

Losing his mind, to lose every trace of his sanity. The thought made him smile. What a gift that would be…

Draco did not hear the dungeon door _boom_ open. He hardly ever does. He is always too lost in his thoughts, but it was the light that caught his attention. The evil bright light that always introduced the Dark Lord.

Over the passing months Draco has grown to hate the light. The darkness is where he feels safe. The darkness of his dungeon is safe. He feels no physical pain until the light shines in. The light is what brings pain. The light is now what brings his thoughts to a screeching halt and fear pounds in his heart. Oh how he wished the room would become pitch black again. Oh how he wished he could no longer see his own hands. But he could, and it scared him.

Dark figures came marching into the room, lead by Lord Voldemort himself. The Death Eaters fanned out as they do every time and took their places along the stony wall to watch. Why do they come to watch? Draco doesn't know. They don't do anything but stand there. They don't make themselves useful to the Dark Lord at all. But they come… every time. _He_ comes… every time. _He_, meaning Lucius Malfoy, father of Draco and previous role model to him, but not anymore. Nowadays Draco doesn't even see him as a dad anymore. No, not a dad… a traitor.

What kind of a father can just stand by and _watch _his own son be tortured? The son that he once held in his arms as a baby. The son that he once taught to fly on a broomstick. The son that he once felt kick underneath his hand when he pressed it against his wife's pregnant stomach.

Draco sighed deeply. He knew what was coming next. His eyes had met with Voldemort's snake-like ones. The very last thought that ran through Draco's mind before Voldemort raised his wand and spat, "_Crucio_" was…

'_Please, just a second too long.'_


	3. Voldemort's Plans and Narcissa's Pain

**Hey everyone! This chapter is going to be all about Draco. You didn't think I'd put him in the story without plans for our beloved Draco, did you? No, I have plans for him and so does Voldemort, so read and find out.**

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Draco's nails dug into the soil like tiny spades. His legs thrashed about awkwardly and his back arched up off the ground. His wails of pain echoed in the dark dungeon, but throughout the extreme pain his body was going through one thing stuck to his mind.

'_Just a second too long,' _he thought hopefully to himself.

The bright white light shown in from the opened door, which granted the spectator Death Eaters light to watch the young man suffer. It glowed on his thrashing body and illuminated the pain stricken expression on his face. Voldemort always leaves the door open during Draco's punishments. He always allows the evil, horrible light to shine in.

One of the Death Eaters that stood against the wall alongside Bellatrix watched, with horror in her eyes, the horrible spectacle before her. She has never come down to watch her master punish Draco. She had been making up all kinds of excuses to avoid it, but today she could not think of anything and had no choice but to follow Voldemort along with his other servants.

Her body shook under her black robes and she glanced over toward her husband. Her heart lurched when she noticed that he just stood there without so much of as faze of what was going on. He stood tall and looked down at Draco, almost proudly.

Oh how badly she wanted to just run out and take her son in her arms. To cradle and rock him like she once did when he was a baby.

Narcissa's eyes then shot onto Voldemort, who was watching Draco with amusement. No way could she run out to her boy in front of him. He'd kill her for sure, wouldn't he? But is that more important then her son? No. Her boy needs her more, but fear gripped her heart and kept her feet planted firmly where they are. She could not move them no matter how much she wanted to. It was like she sported invisible shackles that held her feet firmly to the ground.

Narcissa gritted her teeth and tried to hold her composure, but as the seconds ticked by and Draco's screams dragged on, it was getting harder and harder for her to do just that. It was like someone was piling weights on her back. Putting one on after the other, gradually adding more and more weight for her to hold until her knees buckled underneath her and she dropped to the ground. Her hand clasped firmly over her mouth to keep a sob from escaping her lips.

This sudden movement along the stiff walls of Death Eaters caught Draco's attention and his blue eyes flickered in her direction, along with Voldemort's and the rest of the Death Eaters in the room. The sudden break of concentration pulled the Cruciatus curse off Draco and his body fell limp, his eyes still on the sunken Death Eater.

"Cissy, stop this foolishness. Get up!" he heard the familiar voice of his aunt say. "Get up now!"

Narcissa looked longingly at her son who still lied on his back on the floor nine feet in front of her. He was staring her dead in the face with an unreadable expression. His eyes looked ghostly and resembled one who had just gotten out of Azkaban prison when most of the Dementors were still around there. His mouth hung slightly open and his chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

It is every caring mother's worst nightmare to see her beloved child lying motionless on the ground with a faraway look in the eyes as he stared at her. Just stared. She heard his breathing, raspy from breathing in dust and dirt all summer.

The light on his body allowed her to see how thin he had gotten. She has never asked what exactly they are feeding him once a day, but she could tell just by looking at him that it's nothing very nourishing. His skin almost glowed in the light from the door. Draco had also gotten so much paler as a result of sitting in the dark dungeon all summer. His face was splotched with dirt and his lips were chapped and bleeding slightly. His arms were sprawled carelessly out with his palms up. But it was his eyes that slashed away at her heart. They held a mixture of depression, disbelief, and a little fear. Definitely a mixture she has never seen before in his eyes. And he just stared at her, not moving, not blinking. If it weren't for the sound of his raspy breath and the rapid rise and fall of his chest she'd think him to be dead.

"Mother?" He sounded so weak. His voice was barely higher then a whisper, but she heard him. She heard him as if he had screamed it in her ear. The rest of the occupants of the dungeon must've heard him too because it grew dead silent. The only movement that occurred now at this point was the turning of heads from Draco to Narcissa.

* * *

Draco could not believe his eyes. How long has it been since he last saw his mother? He hasn't a clue. All he knew was that it has been a long time. He has dreamed about her in his sleep from time to time, but he had convinced himself a while ago that he would not be seeing her again anytime soon, but here she is.

He watched her. He couldn't rip his eyes away. He watched her shake. Watched her fingers tighten around her mouth to keep any sound from leaving. Her eyes were wide with horror as she stared back at him, fighting back tears, but he could see them. Her eyes were welling up, but she wasn't blinking. She wasn't breaking eye contact with him.

Now that the curse had been lifted, thoughts other then, "just a second longer," began darting through his mind. He remembered his childhood, four years old, sitting in his mother's lap as she read to him. Six years old, watching her get rid of a boggart in his closet. Eight years old, his powers began developing and she presented him with his first wand. Eleven years old, she was kissing him good-bye before he climbed on the train for Hogwarts. Suddenly he found strength in his body; strength that he hadn't felt in a long time and slowly, very slowly, he began to sit up.

All eyes fell on him as he rose, but he paid them no mind. The only eyes he cared about were his mother's tearful eyes and she watched him with shock.

It was difficult, but he found his footing and his back straightened when he stood up, oblivious to the fact that Voldemort is standing a mere five feet away from him and watching the scene with disgust. All Draco cared about was getting to his mother. To make her stand up as well and stop crying. To see her smile at him like she used to.

He took a shaky step forward, paused, and then took another. He took two more and he reached his hand out for her. He was still a considerable distance from her, but he was getting closer. Just a few more steps and he'd reach her. He'd see her again for the first time after many months of suffering.

"Don't… cry… mum." He forced his voice to form audible words. It was hard to speak. He hasn't spoken to anyone in months and his voice came out raspier then his breath as a result of screaming in pain day after day. He just hoped to God that she understood him.

* * *

Narcissa stared at her approaching son with disbelief as if he had just risen up from the dead. His words shocked her and she couldn't help but feel taken aback. His ghostly-white arm stretched out to her. She wanted so badly to get up and take it, but she could feel Voldemort's eyes boring into her and glued her to the spot. Her knees refused to strengthen and support her weight. So she remained crouched as her son slowly approached her.

"Please," he croaked, taking another step. He felt determined to get to her. He couldn't remember ever feeling this strong about seeing his mother. He had never missed her so much.

'_Just a couple more steps,'_ he mentally coaxed himself. Just a couple more steps and he could sit with her. He could talk with her. She would tell him that his hair is a mess and she would proceed to fix it for him.

Draco's heart pounded in his ears and he took another step. He would hug her and never let her go. _She_ would make the pain go away. _She_ would chase away his fears and sorrow just as she had done when he was a little boy.

'_Just a couple more steps.' _Her tearful eyes yanked at his heart and only gave him more desire to reach her.

"Don't-" he managed to croak before a red light shot him in the back of his head from behind and he collapsed where he stood. His outstretched hand landed two feet away from Narcissa, but he didn't make it to her.

Voldemort lowered his wand.

"_NO_!" Narcissa screamed when she heard the soft _thud_ of her son hitting the floor, quickly followed by the _oof _noise he made when he landed on his chest and his breath was forced from his lungs.

The invisible shackles broke and she lunged forward. She heaved her unconscious boy's upper body into a tight embrace and buried her face into his dirty hair, tears now flowing freely down her cheeks. She rocked his body back in forth and ignored the pleas of her sister to "let him go," "stand up," and "you're making a fool of yourself."

She felt a strong hand grip her upper arm firmly and attempted to drag her away from her son, but she would not have it. She shrieked angrily and turned her face to bite down into her husband's hand. Lucius snapped his hand away and examined the deep teeth marks in his flesh.

"Narcissa, get up!" Lucius snarled. "He's not dead! He's just fine! Let go of him, now!"

"_I won't_!" She snapped forcefully, looking her husband dead in the eyes and clutching her son tighter to her. "Don't you care? Don't you care about him too, Lucius? He's your own son!" she screamed angrily.

Lucius narrowed his eyes and took a step back, but she wasn't finished with him yet.

"_How could you_?" she hissed, her voice lowering. "How could you just stand there and watch this? Watch our son suffer like this!" she screamed again, using a low voice forgotten.

The surrounding Death Eaters, who were muttering to each other at one point, fell silent. The anger that radiated off of Narcissa played part in their silence, but it was mostly due to the fact that she just screamed negatively about the Dark Lord's ways of treating her son right in front of him.

"I won't leave him! He needs me! I will not stand by and watch this madness any longer!" she went on, her tears of sorrow becoming tears of raging anger.

"I'm surprised at you, Lucius! I thought you cherished our son a little more, but I guess I was wrong! _Look at him_!" Narcissa demanded. "_Does he look healthy to you_? _Does he look all right to you_? _Does he look _'just fine'_ to you_? _Does_-"

"Enough, Narcissa," a cold voice stated calmly.

Realization struck Narcissa like a ton of bricks and she looked up to meet the cold, red eyes of Voldemort. Seeing her son suffering had wiped all memory of his presence until now. It felt like a block of ice had landed in the pit of her stomach and her anger and boldness had vanished instantly.

He walked toward her, which caused her to unconsciously clutch Draco tighter.

"Release him," he said calmly.

Narcissa looked down into Draco's face. She silently prayed that his eyes would open so she could say goodbye, but they remained closed. He was out cold.

"That was an order, Narcissa! Release him now or I'll take your hesitation as mutiny and kill you now," he spoke a little more forcefully now.

Narcissa reluctantly loosened her grip on Draco and gently lowered him onto his back. She then tore her arms away from him completely and stood up, but remained silent.

"My dear, Narcissa… I am confused. Why are you crying?" he spoke slowly.

Narcissa lowered her head to hide her eyes. She tried to stop her tears but she couldn't help it. They flowed freely down her cheeks and she fought the strong urge to wrap her arms around Draco again.

"I'm fine, my Lord. Really," she forced herself to say, but she noticeably flinched when he said-

"Do not lie to me, Narcissa. You know I hate liars, and you know what happens when people lie to me."

Narcissa took a deep breath in an unsuccessful attempt to calm her nerves. "I am sorry, my lord. I just- I don't want- he is my only son and I-I," she looked down at Draco again and her heart lurched. Her face looked pained and she lifted her eyes to meet Voldemort's eyes once again.

"Must you continue to punish him?" she blurted before she could stop herself. She dropped to her knees at Voldemort's feet and stared up at him with pleading eyes. "Please my master. I know Draco has learned his lesson. He won't make the same mistake twice. This I promise you! Please… just don't hurt him anymore!" she wailed.

"Punish?" Voldemort repeated. "My dear, I am not punishing Draco. I am merely training him," Voldemort stated in a cool voice. Narcissa's expression contorted into one of confusion.

"Training?" she questioned.

"Oh yes," Voldemort confirmed, the corners of his lipless mouth twitched.

"Forgive me my lord, but what sort of training? You never had us go through this as part of our training to be Death Eaters. Why Draco?"

"Oh I have plans for Draco, big plans. I am training him to be much more than a Death Eater, so much more. He will be more like my… personal apprentice. These are lessons, my dear, not punishments. You see, by putting him though the Cruciatus curse day after day, I'm teaching him to resist it. In do time… pain will be a feeling that he will no longer be familiar with. If he breaks an arm in battle he will continue on without as much as a flinch. If he breaks his nose he won't even realize it. If he is hit by the Cruciatus curse in battle it will have no affect on him," Voldemort explained.

"Is that possible, my lord? Could he really get use to the Cruciatus curse and pain altogether?" Narcissa persisted, her curiosity overruling her fear.

"Oh yes. He doesn't realize it yet, but he is beginning to show minor signs of resistance to the curse." Voldemort's eyes darted onto Draco's unconscious form and stayed there as he continued on.

"Through Legilimens I have found that he has grown to hate the light. In his mind, light brings pain, but the darkness is safe. He sees the darkness as a safe haven. I was hoping this would happen. This will insure his loyalty to me and the dark arts. He will never leave my side. He won't want anything to do with the light and the outside world," Voldemort went on, the corners of his mouth rising slightly.

"But why feed him so little? He's starving," Narcissa stated sadly, following Voldemort's gaze onto her malnourished son.

"I am simply getting him used to harsh conditions. If he were to ever get into a situation when food is scarce he will learn to make due with what he has and survive better," said Voldemort.

"When he can stand up and look at me without a wince while the curse is on him is the day these lessons will stop and we will move on to other things. But until then, this _will_ continue," he stated firmly, clearly his mind is made up and he would not be persuaded otherwise. He noticed Narcissa's expression of uncertainty as she gazed down at her son.

"Oh believe me, Narcissa. It's what's best. He will do well as my apprentice… and you _do_ want what is best for Draco… don't you?" he pressed.

Narcissa didn't like Voldemort's plans with her son one bit, but she bit down on her tongue. She knows that Voldemort's patience with her questions will not last forever and she figured that speaking more would be pushing her luck. She nodded sadly.

"Good. He has '_learned_' enough for today. Let's go," with that, he turned to leave.

Narcissa did not follow at his heals like the rest of the Death Eaters. Instead she chose to crouch down at her son's side and brushed his messy hair away from his forehead where she then planted a kiss.

"There, you see?" Bellatrix had not left yet either. "You should be proud of Draco. I bet he'll become the best fighter of all of us. Imagine, not being able to feel pain". Bellatrix paused for a moment and stared off dreamily before she continued. "You should be happy for him". She then turned to leave, leaving Narcissa and her son alone in the dimly lit dungeon.

"It'll be alright," she soothed, even though she knew Draco couldn't hear her. She continued to sweep his unruly hair away from his face.

"You'll be _ok,_" Her voice cracked and her eyes burned with fresh tears again. She couldn't even believe her own words. Of course he wouldn't be ok. He is being turned into a fighting/killing monster right before her eyes. She has never told Lucius, but she had always hoped that Draco would never be sucked into the war, but here he is, not only being trained to become a Death Eater, but an apprentice.

'_No… not an apprentice,'_ she thought bitterly. More like a weapon, a shield. What kind of a life is that? Could she really just stand by and watch her only son unknowingly get sucked into the dark side? To possibly become as evil as Fenrir Greyback or even Voldemort himself? To kill and fight and cause pain without regret?

Narcissa pulled out her wand and, with an incredibly shaky hand, held it to Draco's face. Tears streamed down her face as she thought about her next move- Death. Death would definitely be a better option for her son than a future full of darkness, blood, suffering, pain, and misery.

Narcissa's hand shook uncontrollably as she tried to force herself to mutter the words, "Avada Kedavra". Oh how she tried, but all she could do was stare down at her son's face. He looked peacefully asleep, peacefully unaware that his own mother is holding a wand to his face and trying to pluck up the courage to rid him of his life.

"Please forgive me, Draco!" she choked out behind tearful sobs. She then began to remember him as a sweet little baby, holding him for the first time and watching him grow up, leading up to the moment when he was stumbling toward her with his hand outstretched and telling her not to cry for him just moments ago. The determined look his eyes held; Determined to get to her. She watched him grow up, but now she has to watch him grow into the darkness and become engulfed in the flames of pure evil.

Narcissa closed her eyes and lowered her wand. She couldn't do it. She knew it would be best for him, but she couldn't bring herself up to murder her own son. She then stood up and walked toward the dungeon door, not once looking back until she reached the door. She began to slowly creek it shut, her face peering in to get last glimpses of Draco's motionless body. The light reduced to a small, white line running along Draco's unconscious form. Narcissa lingered there, staring miserably at her son.

'_He's wrong. Not being able to feel pain isn't an advantage… it's a weakness,'_ was her final thought when she finally shut the dungeon door with a gentle snap, leaving Draco alone in his precious "safe haven of darkness."

**

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Well, short chapter, I know, but I just felt that I needed to make it clear of poor Draco's situation and Voldemort's plans for him and explain why he's been having these "punishments".

**I would like to thank the band, Metallica, for their song _The Unforgiven II_****, which gave me _a lot_ of inspiration for this chapter. But more importantly, a big thank you to the fantastic people out there who do care enough to review. You guys are great and may good fortune rain upon you.**


	4. A Werewolf's Report and Draco's Hope

**Hey everyone! Huge thanks to all you wonderful people out there who reviewed my story. Words can't express how happy reviews make me feel and I'm so happy that you all are enjoying my story. I'm completely open to constructive criticism. If you see something wrong please let me know so I can fix it.**

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It was Saturday night at Hogwarts and the trio could be found sitting in the Gryffindor common room. It was almost 11:30pm so the common room was, for the most part, deserted. Hermione and Ron sat together at a table with their homework splayed out in front of them. Balzar also sat there, though, upon Hermione's shoulder. Harry, on the other hand, had just allowed a gray owl to enter the common room with a letter attached to its leg addressed to him. After receiving his letter, Harry allowed the owl to take flight out the window.

Harry unfolded the parchment and began to read it silently to himself. The letter was very short so it did not take him long to finish. His eyebrows knitted together in thought and he looked over toward Hermione and Ron, who had taken notice of his letter and were looking his way.

"Who is it from?" Hermione asked, noticing Harry's questioning look.

"Lupin…" he started as he made his way over to the table. "Here, take a look," he said, handing Hermione the letter.

Hermione took the letter and flattened it out on the table in front of them so Ron could read it too. It read…

_Harry,_

_I need you to go to McGonagall's office. I can't say why, but she expects you to be coming within the week. I ask that you go there as soon as you've read this letter._

_-Moony  
P.S- Lumos lights the way._

"Wonder what it's about," Ron thought allowed as he skimmed the letter once more.

"Dunno, but I guess we should go now," Harry replied. "You guys should come too. It's probably about the Order."

"What about Filch?" Ron asked apprehensively. It's common knowledge that Filch wanders the corridors at night looking for students out of bed that he can give detention to. Harry answered Ron's question by extracting his invisibility cloak from his pocket and holding it out in front of him. Last year Dumbledore had told Harry to keep his cloak with him at all times. Dead or alive, Harry still takes Dumbledore's words to heart and will always follow his orders.

"We'll use my dad's cloak."

Hermione had to admit; getting all three of them under the cloak nowadays is no easy feat. They all had to scrunch together tightly and walk on bent knees to keep their feet from showing. Every now and then they'd have to stop and rest during their long walk to the Headmistress's office to rest their now sore knees. They are learning the hard way that knees are not meant to support all the weight of the body.

Hermione walked along the left side of Harry, holding Balzar on her wrist. He went nuts when she tried to leave him behind in the common room. He screeched angrily and carried on such a ruckus that they feared he would wake everyone up. Not wanting to face twenty questions about their absence in the middle of the night by their fellow Gryffindors, Hermione had no choice but to take him along, much to Ron's chagrin.

There was one time on the trip when the trio had to pass by Filch. Hermione had felt so worried that Balzar would pick that bad time to abandon his silence and click his beak or hoot. Fortunately, he kept silent. In fact his body went rigid and he seemed to follow Filch with his eyes as he passed them.

A wave of relief washed over the group as the statue of the gargoyle that blocks the hidden staircase came into view.

"Lumos," Harry whispered, remembering the hinted password in the letter. Immediately the gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside, granting access to the staircase, which was quickly mounted by the trio.

When they reached the solid oak doors, Harry's fisted hand stuck hesitantly out from under the cloak to knock.

"Enter," came unmistakably McGonagall's voice from inside the office. Harry slid the cloak off him and his friends and pushed open the door, revealing a slightly distressed looking McGonagall sitting behind the desk that once belonged to Dumbledore.

Harry slowly made his way toward the desk, Hermione and Ron in tow, neither knowing quite what to say.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Harry questioned. He took notice that McGonagall's eyes scanned over Hermione and Ron. Clearly she had only expected Harry to come.

"It's ok. They know just as much as I do about the Order. Assuming this is about the Order. Whatever it is I have to hear- it's their business too," Harry said quietly, trying to keep his tone of voice as polite as he could. After Dumbledore told Harry to confide in Hermione and Ron he had always been sure to do so. Well, for the most part anyway.

"Very well. It is actually Remus who wants to speak with you. About what, I don't know. He asked me to have you contact him through my fireplace. He should be at Grimmauld Place. He will be expecting you," she explained calmly.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said as she followed Ron and Harry over to the fireplace.

McGonagall nodded her response before turning her eyes onto Harry who had just grabbed a pinch of floo powder from an ashtray that sat aside the archway of the fireplace. He then tossed it into the flames, turning them green and sticking his head into the now harmless embers.

"Number Twelve Grimmauld Place," he muttered. Seconds later, the last of the marauders came into view. He was sitting at the table in the kitchen and did not look a bit surprised to see Harry's head floating in the fireplace. Apparently he really had been expecting him.

Lupin looked more fatigued and depressed than Harry had ever seen him. He looked like he had not eaten a decent meal in days. His hair was a mess and his clothes looked like they had been sewed and patched up by a drunk. Obviously buying new clothes is not on his to-do list, though Harry couldn't blame him.

"Good to see you again, Harry. I see you've gotten my letter," Lupin began as he sat down on the floor in front of Harry's face.

"Good to see you too," Harry responded. "So, what's this about?"

"Are you alone, Harry? Is anyone with you besides Professor McGonagall?" Remus asked, ignoring Harry's question for the time being.

"Uh- yeah. Ron and Hermione," Harry replied. Remus nodded.

"Well then, as long as they're there, I think this should be spoken for them to hear as well. Pull your head out of the fire and I'll be there in a moment," Remus instructed calmly. Harry did as he was told and he made himself comfortable beside Ron. Momentarily, the head of Remus Lupin could be seen floating amongst an inferno of green flames.

"It's good to see you Ron, Hermione, Professor," he finished with a nod in Professor McGonagall's direction.

"It's good to see you too, Professor," Hermione chimed in with a smile on her face. Lupin briefly returned Hermione's smile before he began.

"Well, it seems that Arthur has obtained some valuable information in the Department of Mysteries," Lupin finished the last bit of the sentence a little hesitantly. His eyes noticeably flickered onto Harry, intent on seeing his reaction of the name of the place where his godfather had died.

"He's heard talk that not all of the prophesies were destroyed that night. There's a few that are still in tack and one, that you might find interesting, Harry. As of right now we don't know who the prophecy is for, but Kingsley believes that it might be useful information." Lupin paused, waiting to hear any questions that might erupt, but none did, so he continued.

"Kingsley is going to try and find a way to check out the prophecy with Mad-eye. If they succeed and they get it, you can be sure to get a visit from one of them to hear it."

"How did Ron's dad find this out?" Harry asked.

"Well, he has friends who work for The Department of Mysteries and they know that he works for the Order. I guess while sorting out the remaining prophesies they came across one that we might find useful. Though, they couldn't give him the name of whom the prophecy belongs to. Afraid they'll lose their jobs, I guess. A couple people at the ministry have already come close to losing their jobs since that mass breakout at Azkaban. Now-"

"_There was a breakout at Azkaban_?" Harry abruptly cut in. Lupin studied Harry's surprised expression for a few seconds until it seemed that realization dawned on him.

"OH! That's right, you wouldn't know about that. It happened a little while ago, sometime in the beginning of summer. The ministry is trying to keep it quiet for now so they forbid it to be published in the paper."

"_Who broke out?_" Harry demanded, enraged at the thought of Death Eaters getting their undeserving freedom.

Lupin's face suddenly took on a much more tired appearance. He looked weary and the dark rings forming under his eyes became more noticeable. He sighed deeply before he answered.

"Every Death Eater that was captured at the ministry the night they tried to take your prophecy. Nott, Avery, Dolohov, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange-"

"_Malfoy,_" Harry growled.

"Yes, him too," Remus answered with a sad sigh and short nod of his head. "But what did you expect, Harry? The Dementors have all left Azkaban to join Voldemort again. Breaking out for the Death Eaters was all too easy now. You didn't really think they'd be in there forever, did you?"

Harry fell silent. He always knew deep down that it was only a matter of time before the Death Eaters who were caught would break out again. But he had always hoped that somehow, someway, they wouldn't. His hand unconsciously clenched tight into a fist as another question entered his mind.

"What about Snape?" he asked a little more harshly then he meant to. He then, out of habit, listened for a moment to hear if McGonagall would correct him by saying "_Professor_ Snape," like Dumbledore used to, but she remained silent. Harry figured that all respect she once held for Snape had vanished completely. That and she probably felt curious of the news of her former colleague too. Lupin shook his head sadly.

"Nothing yet. Not a thing. It's a shame really. I always wonder what would've happened if I had only stopped Sirius and James from picking on him. Maybe have brought him into our group, then maybe, _just_ maybe, he would have made better choices in life," Lupin said, his eyes fell down to the floor.

"_What do you mean?_" Harry snapped, causing everyone in the dimly lit room to look at him including Balzar. "Don't tell me you're sympathizing with him! He killed Dumbledore! How can you possibly forgive him for that?"

"Now, Harry, I never said I have forgiven him for anything. I am simply saying that maybe he would have made better choices if he had hung out in a better crowd in school than with Lucius Malfoy and his group who all eventually became Death Eaters. Maybe if his only friends in life weren't obsessed with the Dark Arts he would not have become what he is. You saw his memories, Harry. He hasn't had a very pleasant path in life."

"_So what?_" Harry shouted, after Lupin barely finished his sentence. "Neither have you or I! Some lunatic bit you and had your life changed forever! _I've_ never really known my parents! A family who would probably pay money to see me dead adopted me! At one time the whole school was afraid of me because they believed I was sending a basilisk out on muggleborns! I lost the one person who was the closest to a father I've ever had! I'm on the hit list of a mad man! I witnessed the murders of Cedric, Sirius, _and_ Dumbledore! I was placed in some stupid tournament against my will and had the ministry make lies up about me and practically turned the whole wizarding world against me! I can't walk down the street without people staring at my stupid scar! And you and I aren't going around, waving our wands and cutting down the one wizard who Voldemort was ever afraid of!"

"_Mr. Potter_!" Professor McGonagall snapped sharply, finally making her presence heard. She pushed her chair back and began to make her way over to the fireplace. "I understand you're angry, and frankly I'm not happy to hear this news either, but shouting isn't going to solve anything!" she said sternly.

Harry's jaw clenched tight with frustration as he stared at his approaching Head-of-House, but did not say anything more.

"I know, Harry," Lupin stated calmly.

"Remus, have you gotten any information on the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall asked in a slightly hopeful voice. Once again, and to Hermione's disappointment, Lupin sadly shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. Tonks, Moody, and I checked out Malfoy Manor but it looked like no one has been home for quite some time. Lucius obviously can't go home now that the whole wizarding world knows of his alliance with Voldemort and the ministry is after him for breaking out of Azkaban. He's probably hiding out somewhere with Voldemort along with the other Death Eaters and his family. I expect his wife didn't want to stick around now that her husband was thrown in prison for being a Death Eater and her son willingly ran off with the Death Eaters right after the death of Dumbledore. I'm sure she figured that suspicion had been raised on her too and fled to join her son and husband," Remus paused for a moment, taking in every face in the room.

"Although-" he hesitantly continued. Hermione figured that he had to think whether or not to continue with the next part.

"I wouldn't get my hopes up about the Malfoys. Lucius has failed Voldemort twice. Once, with that diary- Dumbledore told me about it," he added, guessing that Harry was wondering how he knew about that. "And again with that fiasco at the ministry. Knowing how Voldemort is he probably already killed the Malfoys, feeling that they are no help to him at all- but we're still looking," he again added quickly when he took notice of McGonagall's crestfallen expression. Apparently she had been giving Draco a lot of thought lately too.

"The whole wizarding world is curious about what has become of that boy. The disappearance of the Malfoy family is greatly known now. So I expect that any sighting of Draco will be in the Daily Prophet." Remus looked thoughtful for a moment. Probably trying to remember anymore important information that needs to be said.

"On a side note," he started again, remembering more to say. "We were able to find out exactly who killed Karkaroff."

Hermione felt Balzar shift slightly on her shoulder but paid him no mind.

"A Death Eater named Listo Stranstun. He was one of the men that Karkaroff told on. He obviously killed him out of revenge."

"I'm glad you're telling us all of this, Professor," Hermione spoke up, earning her a warm smile from Lupin. And in truth, she was delighted to be told all this. It felt good to be looked at as adults, equals-not children. After all, Harry, Ron, and herself had come of age.

"I won't lie, Molly isn't too thrilled about you hearing all this," Lupin admitted.

"Ah geez," Ron groaned. Lupin gave a short bark of laughter.

"She just cares about you three, that's all. And you can't go blaming her for that. Nowadays it's a breath of fresh air to come across people who care more about others then themselves. It just shows that not all wizards and witches are letting their fear of Voldemort get in the way of showing love for others. And I would like you three to continue doing the same," Lupin stated.

Hermione didn't know what to say next and neither, she figured, did Harry and Ron. For they just nodded their heads in understanding.

"Now then, it's late and I don't want to keep you three up any longer. If anything new comes up I'll be sure to let you know. Meanwhile, I would like you to do the same. If any of you notice anything unusual around the school, anything at all, let me know and we will check it out. Professor McGonagall has given me the 'ok' to contact you in the Gryffindor fireplace and she'll call you up to her office if need be, and… that's about it," he informed.

"Take care of yourself, Professor," Hermione said sincerely as she, Harry, and Ron got up to their feet.

"Don't worry about me. Instead I want you three to worry about yourselves and each other. Until next time," and with that, Lupin's head vanished.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said respectfully to McGonagall. He couldn't deny the feeling of gratitude he felt for his Head-of-House. Apparently she felt ok with the fact that he is keeping a look out around the school and participating in the Order. Not only that, she's even helping him with it by granting him private access to her fireplace in her office. McGonagall simply nodded her response as the trio headed for the door.

"Miss Granger?" she spoke up before they walked out the double oak doors.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Why did you bring that owl with you?"

Hermione turned her head to glance at Balzar who sat contently on her shoulder.

"Well, he likes to stay with me, you see. I tried to leave him behind in the common room, but he went nuts. So I just brought him with me," Hermione replied. "Is that ok?" she quickly added.

"It's alright, but I don't want to see him out in my class. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor," and with that, Hermione followed Ron and Harry out the door and quietly shut it behind her.

* * *

The next morning Hermione awoke to the sounds of Lavender Brown, shuffling through her suitcase and walking back and forth past Hermione's bed.

Hermione felt a little sorry for her. The Patil twin's mother evidently did not want them returning to Hogwarts this year and kept them home. Now Lavender is left without her best friend to talk to and giggle annoyingly with.

"Morning, Hermione," Lavender greeted a little wistfully. Not having Parvati around to giggle and talk with anymore seemed to put Lavender in a pronounced state of sadness. Hermione noticed since day one that Lavender seemed quieter and more to herself. She rarely spoke unless spoken to first and not once has Hermione seen her come down to the Gryffindor common room to talk with others.

"Morning," Hermione responded as she reached over to her nightstand beside her bed for her hairbrush. Hermione then proceeded to brush her hair until the frizziness had gone done quite a bit. She then changed out of her pajamas and into a pair of casual clothes and after summoning Balzar onto her wrist, set off out of the dormitory for breakfast.

After dropping Balzar off at the Owlery, Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table. She decided that a morning in the library to finish off her homework for the week sounded good. Due to the events last night she was unable to finish it. So she ate her breakfast quickly before heading off.

Once there, she picked a vacant table in the back of the large room and sat down in a chair. She was the only soul in the library apart from Madam Pince.

Hermione extracted a sheet of parchment, ink, and a quill from her bag and laid them out on the table in front of her. Hermione immediately became so engrossed in her work that time seemed insignificant to her. Hours, unbeknownst to her, flew by and she was only interrupted from her work when she felt the presence of somebody standing beside her chair.

Hermione looked up to see Viktor looking down at her. She could tell by the look on his face that something troubling was on his mind.

"Hi, Viktor," she greeted, putting a warm smile on her face. Unfortunately this smile did nothing to lighten Viktor's mood. Viktor heaved a tired sigh and sat down in the chair beside Hermione and stared down at the wooden table. Now he looked really troubled and even a little nervous.

"What's the matter?" Hermione questioned, closing her book on _Patronesses: The Inner Meanings. _Viktor raised his eyes to meet Hermione's concerned gaze.

"You ver right about Professor Slughorn," he said in a low tone.

Hermione's concerned gaze broke and a broad grin spread across her face. This caused Viktor to scowl, clearly not seeing the humor in it.

"What happened?" Hermione asked in a tone that indicated that she already had an idea.

"Vell, I took your advice and vas avoiding him all veek, but, evidently, he has been looking for me. I vas on my vay to the Owlery to send Balzar out ven… he kind of jumped out," Viktor paused to give Hermione a quizzical look, silently asking for an explanation on the strangeness of the Professor.

Hermione had managed to suppress her laughter, but with the look on Viktor's face it was getting harder and harder to do so.

"He sort of invited me to a party of his next Friday. Vell, he more so _demanded_ that I go. He told me to bring a…date," Now Viktor looked really nervous and he avoided Hermione's gaze once again.

"And I vas just vondering… if you are not being busy… if you vood vant to come vith me," he finished. The sound of Hermione's laughter rang through the library and caused Viktor's eyes to lift up onto her face. (Madam Pince glared daggers at her) Her head was tilted back and she was laughing cheerfully.

Viktor suddenly felt extremely stupid. He felt his insides twisting up in uncomfortable knots and was about to accept rejection until Hermione spoke again.

"I would love to go with you, Viktor."

Relief washed over Viktor's mind and a small, but grateful smile took the place of his grim expression.

"I'm sorry," Hermione went on. "This just reminded me so much of that time you asked me to the Yule Ball. I just thought it was funny. And look, this is even the same table we were sitting at. Talk about déjà vu."

Viktor recalled that day as if it were yesterday. He remembered coming to the library every single day like a lovesick fool just to watch Hermione. Watch her ignore him while his little "fan club" spied on him and whispered loudly behind nearby bookshelves. Most of all he remembered how hard it had been for him to pluck up the courage to march up to her table, tap her on the shoulder, and ask her out.

"I am knowing vat you mean. I remember feeling so nervous. Asking you to the ball vas probably the hardest thing that I vas ever having to do, I am thinking," Viktor's smile changed into one of shyness. For some reason Hermione has always been able to make him feel so unsure of himself and so nervous inside.

"Do you remember that joke you told me about the troll and the muggle? I told that joke to my parents and even they thought it was funny," Hermione stated. She propped her elbow up on the wooden surface of the table and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. She looked reminiscent as she recalled the Yule Ball.

"Do you remember ven that…" Viktor paused as he tried to recall the name of the person who he was about to refer to. "Parkinson girl-"

"Tripped all over her feet and fell flat on her face!" Hermione chimed in excitedly. Viktor's shy smile had long vanished and had now been replaced with a broad grin as big as Hermione's.

"And ven Karkaroff told me to stop telling you about Durmstrang. 'Now, now, Viktor!" Viktor altered his voice to remarkably match that of Karkaroff's, "Don't go giving avay anything else, now, or your charming friend vill know exactly how to find us!" Hermione nodded, rather enthusiastically too.

"I remember that. You got really annoyed with him when he said that, but then when we left the Great Hall you just told me _more_ about your school, remember?" Viktor nodded, his smile never faltering.

"And remember when we were dancing and you picked me up and spun me around? That was fun. That was the first time I had ever danced with a boy," Hermione said.

"Remember all those girls who ver giving you those looks just because you ver vith me?" Viktor asked, his voice lowering so not to draw attention to him and Hermione, but still keeping the humor on his tone.

"Yes!" Hermione hissed. "God they may have been older then me, but boy were they immature."

"Remember when you told me that other joke- I forget what it was about- but _you _told me it while I was drinking punch and it ended up coming out my nose because I started laughing?" Hermione asked in a voice of false anger.

Viktor tipped his head back and a loud bark of laugher escaped his throat.

"I remember that. You started coughing so violently. I thought you ver choking. I remember I vas panicking and vas thinking 'oh no! Vat have I done?'"

"It wasn't funny!" Hermione scolded, but her bright smile betrayed her pitiful attempt to look angry. "My nose stung for about ten minutes after that."

"Yes, but I gave you a napkin," Viktor said as if that simple gesture excused himself of being the cause of Hermione's stinging nose.

At this point, more happy memories of the Yule Ball flooded into Hermione's head. She became so engrossed with reminiscing with Viktor that she couldn't stop herself from exclaiming-

"Remember when you gave me my first kiss?"

Her eyes widened with embarrassment and her cheeks flushed. Suddenly she seemed to have forgotten how to talk and she adverted her eyes away from Viktor, who also looked surprised at her unintentional outburst.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly, suddenly feeling very awkward.

Viktor looked at Hermione with slight adoration in his eyes. He loved the fact that she is so innocent and shy, but at the same time, smart and courageous and not to mention, very pretty. It was then that Viktor took notice of Hermione's change in appearance. He had always thought she was very pretty, but this year, without a doubt, she looked gorgeous. The last time he had seen her she was fourteen, but since than her body has noticeably grown and formed the curves of a young woman. He could only wonder if she knew this. Somehow he doubted it.

"It is alright," he said sincerely. "I am honored that I vas your first."

Hermione smiled sheepishly at Viktor before seemingly finding something interesting on the table surface. The pair sat in silence for a moment before a question popped into Viktor's head.

"Herm-own-ninny, do you think Professor McGonagall vill be disapproving of us going together? Professor Slughorn did seem to be thinking that I vood be bringing someone else outside of Hogvarts. I am a teacher and you are… a student," Viktor said hesitantly. He wasn't sure if Hermione would feel insulted of him calling her a student. He didn't want her to think that he believed her to be beneath him. However, Hermione didn't seem to take offence at all. She looked thoughtful for a moment before answering.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I am turning seventeen in a few weeks. When I'm seventeen it won't matter who I date or how old they are. Not that we're dating, of course," she added quickly.

"Of course," Viktor agreed.

"Just going to a party together," she went on.

"Yes," he agreed.

"Just friends," Hermione stated.

"Just good friends," Viktor added.

"Yeah. Just good friends," Hermione said. She could feel heat rising in her face again.

"Well, I should be going now. Lots to do, y-know," Hermione said, deciding to leave before she said anything else that might embarrass her.

"Yeah," Viktor replied.

"It was nice talking to you again. We should find time to talk more often," Hermione said as she scooped up her books and rolls of parchment and placed them in her bag.

"I vood like that," Viktor answered.

"Well, bye then," said Hermione, a warm smile planted firmly on her face, which Viktor did not hesitate to return.

* * *

Draco, as usual, lay motionless on his side and stared out into the darkness. Many unanswered questions raced through his mind. Most of which, surrounded his mother. He had a dream about her, or at least, he's pretty sure it was a dream. It felt so real though, but… he had woken up, indicating that it must've been a mere dream.

In this dream he remembered going through his day-to-day punishments from Voldemort, only this time it was a little different. Amongst the walls of Death Eaters that surrounded him and the Dark Lord one of them fell down- Dropped to their knees really. The Death Eater was a woman, but not just any woman. It was his mother, the person who he had not seen in days, months.

His father had betrayed Draco by turning away from him in his constant times of need whenever he is being tortured. The day Draco learned that he had basically lost his father was the day he believed that all support for him had vanished. He no longer had anyone else in the world to lean on, no one to tell him to hang in there. No one to tell him to just hold on, that everything will be ok soon, although Lucius has never said these things to Draco. Nevertheless, Lucius' betrayal had lead Draco to diminish himself to actually _wish _for insanity. But then… when he saw his mother's tears, tears she was shedding for him… he felt hope. He felt strength. He remembered standing up, something he hasn't done in God knows how long. The only movement he does nowadays is crawling around, never standing, let alone walking. But he found strength to stand. _She_ gave him strength to stand, to walk.

He remembered trying to walk correctly toward her, but he staggered and he could only take one careful step at a time. With every step he took, the need to get to her grew stronger and stronger. He stretched his hand out for her and told her to stop crying, but that was the last thing he could remember. The next thing he knew he was opening his eyes and found himself lying on his back on the dungeon floor. Now he could only wonder if that very brief, but nonetheless joyful and relieving reunion with his mother was just a dream, or was it real?

Draco was brought out of his thoughts by a loud _crack_, indicating that his daily meal had appeared beside him. It was at that moment that Draco realized how hungry he felt and he sat up and faced in the direction where he heard the loud _crack_ noise. His hands reached out and searched through the blinding darkness in search of his bowl full of disgusting slop. Disgusting though it may be, but when it's the only thing you can eat once everyday the taste doesn't seem to matter anymore.

He froze when his hand landed on a piece of soft linen. '_A napkin?' _

A crease formed on his forehead as he tried to think back to a time when he had ever been given a napkin with his meal while living in this dungeon. He came up with the obvious answer- never. The last time he had used a napkin with his meals, besides at Hogwarts, was at home. His mother always insisted upon it. Nowadays he just wipes his hands on his filthy clothes.

He now moved his fingers away from the napkin in search of his bowl, but he did not find his bowl, instead, they landed on a small –what felt like- a loaf of bread. He lifted the bread and after feeling it a little more, found that it was much more then just bread, but a full on sandwich! Without further hesitation, Draco stuffed the sandwich greedily into his mouth. It was his absolute favorite kind. He could have rolled over in ecstasy. The sandwich tasted incredible.

When he had finished with the sandwich, his hands again explored the tray, this time finding a bowl. He frowned. So they had given him the slop after all, but still feeling hungry he brought the bowl to his lips and tilted it back to let it drain into his mouth. However, instead of its normal runny, liquidy self, the slop was thick and took a moment to touch his lips, but when it did, Draco smiled. It wasn't slop, it was yogurt!

Draco's hand went down to the tray once again, this time finding a cold metal object. After further inspection with his hands Draco realized it was a spoon and quickly set to work on using it for his yogurt. When he had finished he set the bowl and spoon back on the tray and began to search hopefully for a glass of water. Normally he does not get glasses of water, which is probably why they make his slop so watery. That way his body can at least get the water he needs to survive.

Draco almost cried out when his hand landed on a cup and he quickly brought it to his mouth.

Water! Wonderful, normal, refreshing, non-chunky, tasteless water! Draco almost believed that he could cry with happiness as he finished the last generous drops of liquid from the glass.

For the first time in what seemed like ages, his stomach felt completely full. He rolled over on his back; the napkin clutched firmly in hand and stared up at the dark ceiling. Now he wondered about the identity of the person who had sent him the heavenly meal. It wasn't Voldemort. That he knew for sure and he highly doubted it was his father. His mother maybe? But then that would mean that he wasn't dreaming. She had really been in here.

Draco wasn't sure how much longer he had been lying there. When you see absolutely nothing but darkness time doesn't really exist anymore. But his thoughts abruptly came to a stop when the horrid, evil light poured in on him, followed by an odd _snap_ of fingers.

Draco didn't pay much attention to the snap, for something else caught his attention. For a brief second, green letters glowed on his napkin before disappearing. They disappeared too quickly for Draco to read them, but he could recognize the writing any day. It was his mother's writing. She had sent him this wonderful tray of food, meaning that he had truly seen her wonderful, beautiful face. She had truly been in here, crying for him, caring for him.

Draco quickly clutched the napkin in his fist to conceal it from Voldemort's eyes and, remembering the Occulmency lessons from his aunt, shut off his mind to prevent Voldemort from reading his thoughts. He had a strange feeling that he knows nothing of Draco's change of meal and felt determined to keep it that way.

He glanced over at his fist to insure the napkin was completely hidden before shifting his eyes onto Voldemort.

A newfound bravery bloomed in his chest and heart like flowers opening up to greet the warm morning sun after a cold night. He could feel it, and he knew, without a doubt in his mind, that it is because of his mother. The measly napkin clutched tightly in his hand proved that there's still someone out there who cares for him. His mother still believes in him.

Suddenly the value of the feeble napkin seemed to intensify dramatically. It now meant more to him than anyone could ever imagine of a napkin. It gave him courage to look the Dark Lord dead in his horrible, red, cat-like eyes. And, to Voldemort's silent amusement, Draco glared defiantly at him.

'_Thanks, mum,'_ Draco thought to himself as he watched Voldemort raise his wand, but he still held his defiant glare.

Draco bit down on his tongue when Voldemort muttered "_Crucio."_ He would not scream this time. He would not give Voldemort the satisfactory of breaking his newfound hope and courage. Not this time.

The pain was immense as always. The blood in his veins felt like liquid fire, slowly burning away his insides, but he bit down harder on his tongue. The taste of blood filled his mouth but he ignored it. He didn't have to concentrate too hard on keeping his hand closed around the napkin. The bolts of pain caused his fist to grip tightly, keeping the napkin concealed from Voldemort's sight.

Hatred and anger filled Draco's heart when he took notice of Voldemort's amused expression, but he held his rebellious glare for as long as he could.

Voldemort let a low chuckle escape his throat and Draco lost it. He opened his mouth to call him a colorful name, which was a mistake. Since his tongue had been released the only sound from his mouth was the loud agonizing scream he had been trying so hard to fight back.

"_You son of a bitch_!" Draco forced himself to shout out at the top of his lungs in order to cover up his scream of pain.

The curse was removed and Draco spat blood out onto the floor, never breaking eye contact with the stunned looking Voldemort.

Dead silence filled the atmosphere with the exception of Draco's rapid breathing. Death Eaters, particularly his father, stared at Draco with extreme disbelief and shock. Their eyes were wide with fear and their mouths hung slightly ajar under their hoods. No one, but no one, calls the Dark Lord names like that and gets away with it.

"You amuse me, Draco," Voldemort said in an unnervingly calm voice, finally breaking the silence that filled the room.


	5. The Party and The Spat

**Well I have gone back and fixed up Hermione's age to what it rightfully is- seventeen. Again, I'm sorry for the long wait. Enjoy...**

**Chapter 5**

Narcissa Malfoy leaned over the threshold of the large kitchen door and quietly poked her head outside to check if the coast was clear. Her eyes squinted as she peered down the stony, torch-lit corridor.

"Pushing your luck once again I see."

Narcissa's heart leapt into her throat and her body froze where she stood. Her eyes quickly began to frantically search for the owner of the voice. She then breathed a great sigh of relief when she caught site of Severus Snape who had just stepped out of the dark shadows of the corridor.

"Oh, Severus it's you," she spoke breathily with her hand pressing against her thundering heart. "You startled me. I thought-"

"That I was the Dark Lord, or someone who would speak of your defiance to him?" Snape cut in.

Narcissa shifted her eyes down to the ground, determined to avoid Snape's gaze.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Severus," she lied as she stepped over the threshold and proceeded to stroll by.

"Oh I think you do, Narcissa," Snape stated when Narcissa's shoulder was beside his arm. "You're sneaking around behind the Dark Lord's back again, aren't you? Sneaking Draco a meal from the kitchen." Snape threw a knowing look over his shoulder at Narcissa who looked back at him with a stunned expression on her face.

"Severus, please don't say anything!" Narcissa exclaimed, a pleading look overcoming her stunned expression. "He's starving! The food they feed him is not nourishing at all! I saw him!" Narcissa whirled around in front of Snape and clutched tightly onto the front of his robes and stared him dead in the face.

"He is so weak he could hardly stand! He'll die if he doesn't start eating some real food. Please Severus. Don't say anything. I had to do something to help Draco. I can't-"

"Help?" Snape cut in. "Draco has been surviving on a daily meal of gruel since he was first thrown in that dungeon two months ago. If he were going to die he would have done so already. What is it you want to help him with, my dear? Do you not agree with the Dark Lord's motives?" Snape pressed.

Narcissa released Snape's robes and turned to leave, determined not to answer his question, but suddenly, a thought came to her. She stopped walking and turned to face Snape again.

"Severus, you have not been going down to the dungeons at all, have you? To _watch_ Draco's _training_- why?" Narcissa looked at him suspiciously, studying any kind of emotion that she hoped would play across Snape's face. None did.

"I have not received orders from the Dark Lord to do so, but know this, had he, I would be down there," Snape said, a look of seriousness plastered onto his face.

"But you won't tell the Dark Lord what I've done, will you?" Narcissa stated more then asked. She and Snape stared at each other for a moment, but Narcissa already knew the answer.

"You would do well to watch your step, Narcissa. It would be a shame if something were to happen to you," and with that, Snape strolled on past Narcissa without so much as a backward glance.

Narcissa smiled brightly at Severus's back before he disappeared into the shadows. She has known Severus for many years. To some extent he is a closer friend to her then he is to Lucius. So Narcissa knew, without a doubt, that what Snape really meant to say was "No because I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

**O**

Warm rays of the rising sun shown welcomingly into the 7th year girl's dormitory in the Gryffindor tower. The rays slowly traveled across the scarlet carpet and onto the sleeping Hermione Granger's face. This caused her eyelids to flutter for a moment before opening up to expose her honey-colored eyes to the warm sunrays.

Hermione slowly sat up and stretched her arms high over her head, but feeling too warm and comfortable to get out of bed right away, Hermione lied her cheek back down on her pillow, facing the sleepy great horned owl who had slept on her pillow all night. She then reached an arm up and scratched him underneath his feathers on the back of his neck, smiling as he made that strange purring noise.

"'Morning, Balzar," Hermione said softly.

"Hermione, do you let that owl sleep with you every night?" Lavender questioned. Evidently she had been awake for a little while. She was walking around the room aimlessly just as she had done the other morning.

"Yeah- Why?" Hermione asked, turning her attention off of the owl and onto Lavender.

Lavender shrugged as she sat down on her own bed and began brushing through her raven-colored hair.

"No reason. It's just that owls usually sleep in the Owlery. Not with their owners," she stated the obvious. "Doesn't he chew on your pillows or anything?"

"No. He's different from other owls. Well, at least I've never met another owl like him, that's for sure. He's actually Viktor's owl," Hermione explained. This caused Lavender to raise one eyebrow.

"_Viktor's_ owl? You're on first name terms with him?" Lavender asked, astonished at the bookworm's luck.

"Well, yeah. We've been friends for almost three years before he became a teacher," Hermione said casually, although, this answer did not lower Lavender's raised eyebrow.

"Ok, then- what is _Viktor's_ owl doing sleeping in your bed? Shouldn't he be with- well, _Viktor_?" Lavender inquired, putting emphasis on "Viktor". Clearly she isn't use to calling her Professor by his first name. Hermione shrugged.

"I guess Balzar just likes me more. I don't mind though," Hermione replied.

"What happened to Crookshanks? I haven't seen him around," Lavender asked.

"Lately he's taken to sleeping down in the common room," said Hermione, now feeling wide-awake as she began crawling out of bed.

"You don't think he feels replaced, do you? I mean suddenly an owl has moved in and sleeps in his spot on your pillow. Owls eat cats, don't they? Maybe he feels threatened by him. Balzar is pretty big," Lavender pointed out.

"Yeah, well so is Crookshanks," Hermione responded with a short laugh as she drew the curtains around her bed to change into her school robes. "No. He just likes to visit with everyone down in the common room and he just ends up staying down there. Why all this curiosity with my pets?"

"It's not everyday someone you know starts letting an owl sleep with them every night. I was just curious," Hermione heard Lavender say from the other side of the curtain.

"Oh," was all Hermione could think to respond to that. In truth she was paying more attention on dressing into her school robes then whatever Lavender had said. Balzar, as usual, faced away from Hermione as she changed.

When Hermione had dawned her Gryffindor robes and brushed out her hair, she summoned Balzar onto her wrist and set off for the Owlery to drop him off before heading down to breakfast.

The day, for the most part, was fairly uneventful. Hermione had tackled a not-so difficult Charms quiz (On her terms anyway) with ease while Harry and Ron clutched their skulls in frustration. And in Transfiguration, McGonagall had them review over twenty sheets of parchment worth of notes before assigning homework, which is to read pages 117-130 in _Transfigure and Transform: The Hidden Details_.

"You'll thank me later when you take your N.E.W.T tests," she had told them after the class had finished moaning and groaning in displeasure.

Now Hermione found herself sitting down at a desk with Harry and Ron in Defense Against The Dark Arts.

Viktor had not arrived yet so Hermione took this time to look around the classroom. Over the years the DADA classroom has undergone multiple decretive changes. When Quirrel was around the room was filled with anti-vampire stuff and smelled strongly of garlic. Then when Lockhart was the DADA teacher the walls were covered in pictures of himself. Then when Lupin respectively became their teacher the room housed multiple creatures like grindylows, hinkypunks, and kappas. Next came "Alastor Moody". With him (or Barty Crouch Jr.) around, the room was filled with multiple gizmos and gadgets used by aurors. Then when the horrid Dolores Umbridge moved in the room was decorated with all sorts of frills and pink stuff. Snape had covered the walls in gruesome pictures of witches and wizards who had felt the effects and wrath of nasty spells and creatures. This year was no different.

Viktor had decorated the room in Quidditch stuff.

'_What else?'_ Hermione thought to herself.

There were four broomsticks hung up on the walls, one on the North wall behind Viktor's desk, another on the South wall behind the rows of student desks. The third one hung on the West wall and the forth one on the East wall.

Hermione figured these brooms held some sort of importance to Viktor because they were held up to the walls by beautifully carved wooden racks with a gold plaque under each broom except the one sitting on the North wall. Hermione could see that the plaques each had small, fancy writing carved into them but would need a closer look to see what they read.

Moving pictures of famous Quidditch players also adorned the walls. Hermione only knew they were famous because she could hear Ron and Seamus talking excitingly about each player that swooped and dove around in the pictures.

"That's Levski!" she heard Ron exclaim.

"And that's Connolly," Seamus gasped. "And look! Each picture's signed!"

A large box sat in the far corner of the classroom. Hermione assumed it held the three kinds of balls used for Quidditch. Although, she's seen the box used to contain these balls before and it wasn't even half the size of the one Viktor owns. Maybe it's holding extras of each of the balls? The box looked big enough to hold twenty quaffles instead of just one.

A couple minutes flew by before Viktor came strolling into the classroom and took his place at the front of the room. His unnerving scowl was rightfully in place and his dark eyes scanned the classroom, taking in every set of eyes that stared back at him. Although, his eyes noticeably softened when they landed on Hermione as they often do. His scowl vanished.

"Next Monday I vill be giving you all a test on your Patronus charm. Ve vill be spending this lesson practicing your Patronus as vell as Thursday's lesson." Viktor paused, seemingly waiting for any questions from the students, but none came up.

"Leave your desks and go stand in the back," he instructed. The whole class didn't hesitate to do as they were told. Multiple bodies hurried from their seats and unnecessarily rushed to the back of the classroom, clearly all were eager to practice their Patronesses.

After every seat was clear, Viktor waved his wand in the air and all the desks and chairs slid across the floor and fixed themselves against the walls, leaving a large open space in the center of the room. The students all picked a spot in the center of the room and soon, "_Expecto Patronum_" was being chanted from every mouth.

**O**

Viktor weaved through the crowd of students and silvery animals that pranced, reared, and leaped around the classroom. He would stop every now and then to inspect one of his pupils and see how they were fairing. Many, he felt pleased to see, were coming along really nicely. Hermione especially.

Viktor stopped walking to watch her for a moment. His chest swelled with pride as he watched her crouch down in front of her otter Patronus and look at it fondly. She was smiling warmly at it, he noticed, as if it were a living creature- a pet. It was in perfect form. He mused at the fact that, muggleborn or not, he would pay money to see someone use a spell she can't learn.

Viktor tore his attention off of Hermione and onto one of his students that, unfortunately, wasn't doing so well. He saw Neville struggling in the back of the classroom. He looked like he was concentrating much too hard because his face was bright red. His wand waved unceremoniously in the air and he was shouting "_Expecto Patronum_", but with no effect.

Viktor couldn't understand why he was having so much trouble. He remembered that Neville had indeed gotten his Patronus to form briefly while he had him up in front of the class on his first day of teaching. But now it looked like it was the first time Neville had ever attempted the charm.

Viktor looked down at his watch and frowned upon seeing that class would be ending in five minutes. He wouldn't have enough time to help him now. He'd have to see him after class.

Viktor weaved in and out amongst the crowd until he reached Neville. He tapped him on the shoulder, ceasing Neville's excessive wand waving and giving Viktor his full attention. (He looked a little worried.)

"Longbottom, is it?" Viktor questioned. Neville nodded.

"Class vill be ending in few minutes, but ven it is time to go can I haff a vord vith you?" Now Neville looked really nervous. He shifted his weight to his other foot and nodded shakily.

**O**

When class had ended Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and headed over to Viktor's desk. She needed to ask him more about the party. She had forgotten to ask him what time he wanted to meet her and where. Little did she know that Neville was gloomily walking behind her.

"Herm-own-ninny, I am sorry," Viktor began before Hermione could get a word in. "I need to haff a vord vith a student. Ve vill haff to talk later."

"It's ok," Neville spoke up. "I don't mind if she stays". Viktor's dark eyes flickered unsurely onto Neville. Hermione got the feeling he was watching Neville, looking for any sign of second thought as to whether Hermione should be allowed to stay.

"Vell, if you don't mind. Longbottom I haff asked to speak vith you because I vish to help you vith your Patronus. I could not help but notice you ver haffing a bit uff trouble–It is alright!" Viktor quickly added upon seeing Neville's crestfallen expression.

"The Patronus is a very difficult spell to master. I just vant to help you along," said Viktor.

Neville, while still looking nervous, did manage to relax slightly as he readied his wand once more.

"No, no. No vands. Please sit down," said Viktor as he summoned one of the chairs from the east side of the room to slide forth to Neville. Neville now looked a little confused, but sat down nonetheless.

"You too, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor added as he summoned another chair for Hermione, which she quickly complied with a thank you.

"Longbottom, I hope you vill forgive me for asking, but has something," he paused, seemingly trying to find a good word to use. "-horrible happened to you in the past?"

Neville did not answer right away. He looked up at the beautiful broomstick that hung on the wall over Viktor's head, but Hermione knew he was not paying any attention to the broomstick. Neville was thinking of his parents.

"If you are not feeling comfortable speaking uff it, I understand," said Viktor as he evidently took notice of Neville's almost vacant expression.

"Well," Neville began hesitantly, his eyes settling down on Viktor's desk.

"I am promising you that vat ever you say vill not leave this room," Viktor assured him. Neville took a breath to settle his obvious nerves and then launched into the story of his parents being tortured into insanity by four Death Eaters. All the while, Viktor never adverted his eyes off Neville. He had given him his undivided attention, taking in every word.

"So… now they're in St. Mungo's. They hardly even know who I am anymore…" Neville drifted off, no doubt glad to be done with the story. By the look on Neville's face it still deeply bothered him, but of course, no one can blame him.

"I see. Longbottom vat happened to you vas not right. It is no vonder you ver having trouble vith your Patronus. Like I haff explained, you must be thinking uff happy, joyful times in order for the charm to vork. No one can blame you for feeling sad. Anyone vood, but you must rise above vat happened. It is not your fault and you cannot let it haunt you or hold you down." Viktor stood up and walked out around his desk over to Neville then picked him up out of his chair and set him back on his feet.

"From now on, ven you think uff your parents, instead uff thinking about vat happened to them, I am vanting you to think uff how brave they are." Viktor took Neville by the shoulders and looked him dead in the face.

"I am sure they vood not vant you to feel sorry for them, but proud uff them! I vant you to think uff them, think uff how hard they vorked, the things they've done, the people they did put in Azkaban ver they belonged, and many uff the lives they protected. I vant you to think and remember everything they've done, not just for the vizarding vorld, but also for you, Neville." –a look of slight surprise crossed over Neville's face at the addressing of his first name- "They vorked hard, as aurors, to do their best to try and make this vorld the best they could for you to grow up in. From now on, I am vanting you to think uff them and not frown, Neville, but smile!"

Hermione did not think anyone had ever talked to Neville like this. The only teacher to ever really instill confidence in Neville, that Hermione could recall, was Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout. In any case, Viktor's words seemed to be taking effect on Neville. Hermione distinctly notice that he stood up a little straighter, held his head a little higher, and just like Viktor told him to do, he was smiling.

Viktor released Neville's shoulders and took a few steps back, a satisfactory look plastered on his face as he looked at the boy before him.

"Now, Neville, take out your vand- keep smiling!" He quickly added. "Ve vill try the Patronus again."

Taking in a breath, Neville held out his wand and chanted, "_Expecto Patronum_." Nothing happened.

"Try again!" Viktor pressed. "Think uff your parents, Neville! They ver your strength, and now you are there's. Smile, Neville!"

Neville tried again, and this time, however, white smoke erupted. Hermione beamed at Neville.

"I think you're getting it, Neville!" Hermione exclaimed. This caused Neville to smile brighter, his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink from all the attention that he is not used to getting.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" Neville repeated with a little more force. This time, the white smoke that again erupted from his wand grew wider and much brighter. Hermione could have sworn that she briefly saw the outline of a paw and Viktor obviously did too because, as soon as the cloud faded, Viktor beamed at Neville and gave him a short applause.

"Very good!" Viktor said as he gave Neville a pat on the back. "I am thinking that is enough for today. If you vant, Neville, you are velcome to come back venever you need more help before the test."

"Thank you, Professor," he replied. Obviously feeling quite proud of himself. Neville then exited Viktor's classroom with a bright smile on his face that Lockhart would envy.

"Viktor, that was brilliant," Hermione commented as if she were predicting the tomorrow's weather. Viktor beamed at her.

"I think I am getting the hang uff this teaching. I am liking it more everyday!" Viktor replied with enthusiasm.

"I'm glad Neville has another teacher he can look up to. When Snape was here he did nothing but pick on him," said Hermione with pronounced bitterness.

"Snape… he is the one who killed-"

"Yes." She tried to hide the anger as she thought of what Snape did the previous year, but it couldn't be helped.

"I had heard that he left vith the Death Eaters after- vith a boy… Draco… Malfoy?" He looked at her questioningly. Hermione nodded.

"Yeah that's the one. You met him during the Tri-Wizard Tournament- blond haired, nasty little prat who was completely obsessed with being '_pureblood_' who-"

"Ok!" Viktor cut off her rant. "He vasn't very nice," Viktor stated the obvious.

"Sorry," said Hermione sheepishly, feeling a little embarrassed for getting carried away into a what would've been a long rant.

"It is alright," he told her with a reassuring smile. "Now, vat vas it you came to see me for- not that I mind you visiting me."

"Well," Hermione began, "I was just wondering where you want to meet me and what time for the party?"

"Oh, vell, Slughorn _demanded" _-He gave Hermione a worrisome look_- " _for me to be there by seven, so I can meet you in the Entrance Hall."

"Alright, that's fine. I'll see you there then at seven." Hermione slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder and turned to Viktor again. "I'll see you later, Viktor," she said with a bright smile, which Viktor returned.

"I am looking forward to it," he responded with an agreeing nod. Hermione turned to leave back for the Gryffindor tower to set on her homework straight away.

**O**

At first, the most of Hermione's worries were on keeping up with the mountain of homework she was trying desperately to keep down. Everyday it seemed like the teachers were holding a competition with each other on who could assign the most homework in a week. Poor Harry and Ron, Hermione noticed, were looking very tired and stressed with all the homework. On more then one occasion Hermione got so sick of watching them clutch their skulls until tuffs of hair would fall out that she would send them off to bed and take over.

Hermione noticed, however, that as Friday of the party quickly grew closer, her worries seemed to shift from her homework onto her appearance. She quickly became aware of how she dragged her feet thuggishly instead of picking them up like she felt she should. She also found herself looking up potions and spells for hair and makeup.

"Uhhg- it's hopeless!" Hermione growled out on Friday night as she threw her wand down rather harshly on the floor. She then stared into a mirror she had transfigured from a goblet that she had taken from the Great Hall. She couldn't help but feel that her teeth could be a little whiter and that her eyelashes could be a little longer.

"Maybe I shouldn't go," she mumbled to herself.

"Of course you should go!" Lavender, whom Hermione had forgotten was in the room, suddenly exclaimed. Now that Parvati wasn't around for Lavender to gossip loudly with, she had become quite silent. Lavender hurried over to Hermione and pulled out her wand.

"Sit down," she instructed, pointing to the edge of Hermione's bed. Hermione did not argue and she took her seat at the edge of her four-poster bed. What Hermione wasn't expecting was for Lavender to invite herself up on the bed as well and she took her spot behind Hermione with her wand held at the ready.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked alarmed. She didn't quite feel comfortable with Lavender pointing a wand to the back of her head.

"Relax!" said Lavender almost forcefully. "Parvati and I used to do each other's hair and makeup all the time. I'm a professional," she said proudly. "Now sit still or you'll look like a clown!"

Hermione shrieked in surprise and made to get up when suddenly, what felt like, ice-cold water hit her scalp and ran down the back of her neck. Lavender, however, gripped her shoulders and held her still.

"Hold still!" She repeated forcefully.

"It's cold!" Hermione retorted.

"It's supposed to be. It makes your hair shiny!"

"I've never heard of-"

"Hermione!" Lavender snapped, cutting Hermione off. "I don't tell you the right way to transfigure beetles to buttons, so don't _you _tell me about hair and make up!"

Not wanting to allow further interruption, Lavender wordlessly continued her work. She pulled out a brush seemingly out of nowhere and continued to comb out Hermione's thick hair, occasionally mumbling stuff like, "You should brush it more," and "Better detangler."

"Umm… Lavender," Hermione started hesitantly, wanting to avoid another angry outburst from Lavender. "Why don't you just use magic?"

"Because some things, like hair, just turn out better when done by hand. I'm trying not to pull. I'll use magic once I"- She grabbed a section of Hermione's hair and started vigorously brushing the ends- "get all the knots out." Lavender did not say another word for a while until Hermione looked up at the clock and noticed that twenty minutes had gone by since Lavender started and that it was now a quarter till seven.

"Um… are you almost-"

"Done! With your hair at least."

"Can I see?"

"No!" Lavender snapped as if Hermione had just asked the most preposterous thing she could ask. "Makeup next, then you can see. Did you bring any other robes beside your school ones?"

Hermione shook her head.

"That's alright I have a full trunk-load of dress robes you can borrow. With your skin color I'd say you'd look good in… powder blue-- like you wore at the Yule Ball or maybe white. You probably wear the same colors I do."

Hermione had lost her at "you can borrow," so she promptly thanked Lavender for the offer and, on Lavender's orders, turned to face her fellow Gryffindor 7th year.

"I'm thinking autumn colors…" Lavender mumbled to herself as she examined Hermione's face as if it were some kind of sculpture. "Yes, autumn."

Hermione had never been examined so closely before and she had to admit to herself, it made her feel a bit uneasy. It didn't help whenever Lavender would occasionally frown or squint.

"Now close your eyes and hold still," she instructed. Hermione closed her eyes and went as stiff as a board, terrified at the fact that Lavender was now holding a wand to her face. After mumbling some incantation Hermione had never heard of, Lavender said, "Done. Open your eyes."

Lavender had lifted the mirror that Hermione had conjured and held it up in front of her. Hermione was shocked to look into the mirror and see an almost completely different face staring back at her. The features of her face were much more pronounced and, dare she think it, pretty. She had never noticed that there were specks of gold sprinkled along the background of her honey-colored eyes. As if reading her mind, Lavender went on to say, "You never realized how pretty your eyes are, have you? I promise the only charm I used on you was for makeup and something to thin your eyebrows just a bit. Your eyes are like that naturally, did you not know?"

Hermione gaped at Lavender and shook her head. Lavender beamed.

"Yep. All it takes is a bit of eyeliner and maybe a bit of shadow; thin the eyebrows a bit and you draw so much attention to your eyes. Now for robes." Lavender slid off Hermione's bed and headed over to her, rather empty, side of the room and started rummaging through one of her trunks (She had four.)

While she waited, Hermione looked up at the clock and, to her horror, only had ten minutes left. She could feel her gut twisting painfully with nerves.

"Here we go," said Lavender finally as she extracted a beautiful set of powder-blue dress robes that looked quite similar to the ones Hermione wore at the Yule Ball.

"These should fit you fine. You look about my size," Lavender commented as she shifted her eyes up and down Hermione's body. Five minutes later Hermione was dressed in the robes, which fit her perfectly and (Lavender insisted) was wearing a pair of matching dress shoes that had just a bit of heel to 'em.

"I know you're not used to wearing heels so one inch is a good size to start." Lavender walked over to Hermione's bed and picked up the small mirror and set it on the floor and then, with a wave of her wand, the mirror grew into a full length mirror so Hermione could see what she looked like entirely as a whole and, she had to admit, Lavender did a good job.

Her hair had been pulled back into a spirally bun with a few loose locks hanging out that had been curled into wide, sleek twists that glittered on the sides of her face and neck. Her eyes looked so pronounced that they seemed to jump out from the reflection she stared at. The beautiful dress robes she had dawned floated elegantly around her, showing just a bit of her curves, but, as they say, leaving plenty to the imagination, which is saying something considering that robes aren't really revealing.

"I don't know what to say." Hermione turned her eyes onto Lavender who stared back at her with a satisfactory look like one McGonagall would give at examining a well-transfigured glass of wine.

"Thank you." In truth, Hermione had never been all that fond of Lavender. Every time she turned around it seemed like she was always deep in discussion with Parvati about the stupidest things. She was definitely no walk in the park to be around when she was dating Ron just the past year. However, now that Parvati wasn't around, she seemed like, well, a better person. She had never offered to help Hermione with anything before and Hermione was quite glad that she did now.

"No problem. Now you should go. You have five minutes to get to the entrance hall to meetthe professor." Hermione did not remember telling her that.

"How did you-"

"You were mumbling all about it to yourself before I stepped in. I heard every word."

"Oh," was all Hermione could think to say. She took special note to, next time, look around the dormitory to make sure Lavender wasn't lurking before she launches into silent rants to herself. With a final grateful smile, Hermione turned to leave, but was stopped once again by Lavender.

"Hold it! One more thing I almost forgot," with a flick of her wand (She had gotten quite good at nonverbal spell casting Hermione noted,) small, but non-painful sparks sprayed into Hermione's face and then vanished before her eyes.

"It's just a charm to keep your hair and makeup from falling out of place, is all. Now go," and she hurried Hermione out the door, all the while Hermione repeating her thank-yous.

Hermione hurried downstairs into the common room (People stared at her as she went by) and huddled out of the portrait hole, down the corridor that lead to a flight of stairs, which she quickly mounted and kept going until she neared the entrance hall. She stopped for a moment to get her breath and settle her nerves before she turned the corner and carefully (She didn't want to trip on her heels on the stairs) made her way down to Viktor, whom stood waiting for her.

"You look beautiful," Viktor commented as he offered her his arm, which she promptly took.

"Thank you." He didn't look so bad himself in the hansom red robes he sported.

"You look great too," she said truthfully. Viktor smiled.

Hermione tried to hold a calm composure as she walked alongside Viktor, her arm linked within his, but she found it difficult. The closer they got to Slughorn's office the more the butterflies in her gut fluttered about. Hermione did not know how long they had been walking, but finally Slughorn's office came into view. When they got to the door, Viktor pushed it open and they were instantly bombarded with loud music.

The instant Hermione and Viktor stepped over the threshold, a large arm suddenly shot out from the crowd of people, wrapped around Viktor's shoulders and drug him in like a fish on a line with Hermione in tow.

"Viktor m'boy!" Professor Slughorn boomed joyfully, sloshing a bit of his wine on himself. "I was hoping-- no-- praying that you'd show up! Let me introduce you to…"

Viktor looked absolutely terrified. He was being towed around a large crowd of people and getting shoved under the multiple noses of Slughorn's friends. Viktor had long released Hermione's hand and she stood back, watching him get displayed for all to see like some sort of prized show pony.

"He's not only an accomplished seeker!" Hermione had heard Slughorn roar, "But also a marvelous teacher!" Slughorn shook Viktor's shoulders so hard that if it weren't for his impeccable balance he would've been knocked clean off his feet.

"And who's the lucky lady you've brought along, eh? Point 'er out! Let me have a look." Viktor hesitantly nodded in Hermione's direction and before Hermione could think to run, Slughorn came barreling through the crowed, more of his wine sloshing out of his glass with poor Viktor in tow.

"Ah, Miss Granger!" Slughorn boomed over the loud music. "Looking well, looking well! I sent a note for Harry to come; I guess he was busy of course- no doubt. Captain of the Quidditch team he must have a lot on his plate. You are seventeen, of course?" Hermione nodded shakily.

"Good, good! Well I'll leave you two kids alone for now, but when more people come, Viktor"—he waggled his thick finger at Viktor—"I want to see you back here. None of my friends can _believe _that I know the famous Viktor Krum!" And with that said, off Slughorn went, disappearing back into the large crowd.

"Are you alright?" Hermione had felt she should ask. Viktor turned his head and gave a reproachful look back at the crowd that he had just emerged from.

"Yes. I just hate that, is all. It is not fun." He turned his eyes back down on Hermione and he smiled faintly at her.

"No, it doesn't look it. Do you want to get some drinks?" Viktor's eyes shifted onto the far table in the back of the room and he smiled and turned back to look at Hermione.

"Yes!" He said, rather excitedly and he and Hermione hurried over to the table. Once there, Hermione snatched up a goblet of Butter Beer while Viktor looked sadly at a bottle of liquor beside him.

"What's wrong?" She asked him.

"That is my favorite drink, but it is very strong. I am thinking it vood be best for me not to drink it around you," Viktor said as he instead lifted up his own goblet full of Butter Bear.

"It's alright. I don't mind," Hermione admitted truthfully, but Viktor shook his head in disagreement.

"Maybe not you, but Mc-Gona-gall vood. Besides I am kind uff… strange drunk. I do not vish to make a scene." Hermione had to hold back a laugh. Judging by the guilty look on Viktor's face he had obviously done something while drunk that he did not wish to talk about. She decided not to press it.

As the party drew on, Hermione had lost all track or even care, for that matter, of time. Her fear had long been forgotten and she found herself having an excellent time. She would often thank Lavender silently for putting the charm on her to keep her hair and make up in place. She was running around so much in the hot room it was a wonder that everything still stayed perfectly in place.

She figured Seamus Finnigan was in the room somewhere because after a while, loud, upbeat, whole-hearted Irish music starting blasting around the room, causing multiple mugs of sloshing liquor to be shot in the air as people cheered and gave thanks to the most random things. On more then one occasion Hermione was swept through a drunken, dancing crowd and had to be dragged out by a laughing Viktor Krum. Hermione didn't mind, though. She was laughing too.

Multiple people would often come up to Viktor, shaking his hand and patting him on the back as if they had known him for years. There was one Scottish man whom Hermione had never seen before (She assumed it was a friend of Slughorn's), however good-natured, challenged Viktor to an arm wrestling match. He was about as broad-shouldered and muscular as Viktor was and, with a huge grin, Viktor accepted.

Within seconds, as the two men walked over to a small, round table for two, word seemed to spread around the room faster then someone could throw a stone. Before Hermione knew it, people were shouting bets and laying multiple gold galleons down on a table. Unsurprisingly, Slughorn was the one taking the bets and he placed his own on, obviously the famous one, Viktor.

People gathered around the table so fast that Hermione had found that she was left in the back, but not for long. A tall man she didn't know had lifted her up like a bride and carried her through the crowd shouting, "Make way! Make way! I've got Krum's girl here—Stand aside!"

Hermione felt her face burn at the words "Krum's girl," but could not help but enjoy how people smiled warmly at her and gladly parted so that she and the man could get through. When they got to the front of the inner-circle of people the man said, "Here you are, miss," quite politely as he lowered Hermione to her feet.

She breathed a quick thank-you and beamed up at the tall man and then turned her attention onto Viktor who had just joined hands with his opponent. Hermione saw that Slughorn had crouched down along side the table, staring intently at the two men's fists, evidently watching for any cheating.

"On my mark!" Slughorn shouted, making everyone around them fall silent. "Three—Two—Mark!"

The crowd around Hermione erupted in roars and cheers so loud she was surprised the office door had not been blown off its hinges. She watched as the muscles and veins in both men's arms looked like they were about to burst through their flesh. Their faces were contorted in such sheer determination, both not wanting to let up. Their joined hands remained suspended above the table, not moving in either direction.

After a moment, the strength in the Scotsman's arm faltered slightly and Viktor slammed the back of his hand down. Cheers bombarded around Hermione's ears and Viktor was just able to shake the Scotsman's hand (Both smiling cheerfully) before the crowd of people lifted Viktor into the air. The man who had previously carried Hermione had again picked her up and sent her on her way to be supported by the rest of the crowd.

Hermione protested at first, not quite feeling comfortable with the multiple hands running along her body as she was passed around the room, but the merry atmosphere quickly diminished her discomfort.

"Let's here it for Viktor and his lovely young miss, Hermione!" someone shouted. Hermione felt like her cheeks were on fire. She felt so embarrassed, not only for, once again, being addressed as "Viktor's girl," or in this case, "His lovely young miss," but also for the fact that the room was now cheering _her_ name. When she entered the room it was Viktor's name that was on everyone's lips, but now it seemed that there wasn't a soul in the room who didn't know who she was. However, she had to admit, she was having fun.

Suddenly, somebody had bewitched the large pile of golden galleons that had been abandoned on a table and now glittering coins flew through the air. Hermione got hit a couple times, but it didn't really hurt. Somebody also bewitched the liquor on the table so now many bottles, mugs, and goblets were flying around the ceiling sloshing their contents all around the room. Glittering coins and all sorts of alcohol rained down upon Hermione and the rest of the crowd, but nobody seemed to mind, all the while the upbeat Irish music continued to play.

The clock on the wall (it was dripping with butter bear) had struck 2:00AM when Hermione finally looked up at it.

"Viktor!" Hermione had to shout in order to be heard over the music and still roaring crowd. Viktor knelt down so that his ear was right beside Hermione's mouth.

"I'm pretty tired. I should probably go," she said and indeed, she was. She had not exerted so much energy in a long while. Viktor nodded. Not wanting to lose each other in the crowd, Viktor took her hand and headed, rather quickly, for the door. Hermione figured it was because he did not want Slughorn to see him leaving.

"That was so much fun!" Hermione exclaimed for the umpteenth time. She and Viktor were standing outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. He had decided to escort her back to the common room for fear of Filch getting a hold of her and giving her detention for being out of bed so late.

"I am glad you had fun. I am sorry for the crowd surfing, though. I knew that I vood probably get attacked by a bunch uff people, but I did not mean to put you through it," he told her in a sincere voice and looked at her with a guilty expression.

"Don't worry about it. It was kind of, well— neat I suppose. I've never been so recognized by a huge crowd of people like that before. I don't think I'd want that everyday, but it was a nice change." Viktor's guilty face vanished and he beamed at her from ear to ear.

Not knowing what else to say she smiled brightly and said, "Well, good night," and gave the password to a very annoyed Fat Lady.

Before she could leave, Viktor took hold of her small hand and pressed his lips against it. The burning in her face had suddenly returned and she adverted her eyes onto the floor, suddenly realizing that her robes were drenched in liquor and smelled strongly of alcohol and sweat. They now were clinging uncomfortably to her sticky body, making her feel glad that the corridor was dark.

"Are you coming in or what?" the Fat Lady snapped. Hermione had forgotten that she was still hanging open.

"Good night, Viktor," Hermione repeated before she climbed through the portrait hole.

Hermione arrived up into the dormitories to find Lavender asleep in her bed. This Hermione was grateful for. Now she wouldn't have to endure shouts of disappointment at the site of Lavender's liquor sodden dress robes.

Hermione changed into her pajamas, deciding to take a long bath tomorrow morning. Before she climbed into bed, she pointed her wand at the soaked dress robes and muttered, "_Scourgify._" The robes instantly reverted back to their clean, floaty selves and Hermione climbed into bed. She was only awake momentarily, reminiscing the exiting events of the past hours before she drifted off into sleep.

**O**

Somewhere off in a completely different part of the country Narcissa was walking silently along in a thick forest, trailing behind a small group of fellow Death Eaters- Her sister and husband being two of them. The other Death Eaters already sported their masks and their hoods covered their heads, but not Narcissa. Covering her identity was the last thing on her mind at the moment.

She couldn't help but wonder about herself and her position as a Death Eater. She had always been taught to hate the tainted blood and that, she knew, would never change. She could never see herself fighting for "_muggle rights_" or whatever such nonsense they've come out with, but seeing her son struggling and suffering had knocked something into her.

She thought back to the day she readily joined the Death Eaters as her husband had. Her hatred of Mudbloods and her love for Lucius made the decision all too easy. At the time it seemed like the right one, but now she looked at Draco; She looked and noticed that now, because of her actions, he is suffering- suffering over a choice _she _had made. But it was far too late to back out now.

'_If I back out, he won't just kill me… but surely Lucius and Draco too.'_ Narcissa looked up at her husband who walked tall up in front. After years of fighting by his side she could tell him apart from the other identical masked Death Eaters as if he were wearing orange.

'_Perhaps you are as foolish as me Lucius,' _she thought bitterly to herself, remembering that horrific moment in the dungeons when he stood there and _watched_ his son being tortured without so much as a blink.

Lucius chose that moment to look back at her. Narcissa glared at him and adverted her eyes to the ground.

And then there was that Unbreakable Vow she made with Severus. He vowed to protect Draco from harm and to finish the task should Draco fail. Severus had completed the last part of the Vow, but there is still the matter of protecting him from harm. No doubt Draco is being harmed. Everyday he is tortured, and yet, Severus is still walking around. Does that mean that the Vow was completed?

"Narcissa, stop this brooding." Lucius' voice snapped Narcissa from her thoughts. Her husband had fallen back to walk along side her.

"No," she answered coldly.

"Would you just-"

"No," she answered just as coldly as before.

"Talk to me!" he snarled.

"No."

"You're acting-"

"No."

Evidently Lucius did not want to be overheard by the other Death Eaters because all the sudden Narcissa could hear his voice in her head.

"_You can't cut me off now_," he jeered. "_Now listen to me_." Narcissa glared down at the ground.

"_You know perfectly well that I can resist the Imperious curse, Lucius, so take it off now and leave me alone_," was what she projected back to him.

"_Do you think I liked watching that_? _Do you think I enjoyed watching Draco be tortured like that?_" his voice snarled in her head.

"_No, _dear_, you looked absolutely beside yourself with grief_," she snapped back sarcastically.

Suddenly Narcissa let out a loud yelp that startled the Death Eaters in front of her and they whirled around to find her lying on her stomach in the dirt. She looked up at her smirking husband who said, "Sorry, _honey, _my wand must've slipped_," _and turned and started walking away.

Gritting her teeth in anger, Narcissa waved her wand carelessly at her ankles, undoing the invisible ropes that had wrapped around them and climbed back up to her feet, wand at the ready. Suddenly, much to the surprise of the unsuspecting Death Eaters around him, Lucius was hit in the back by a jet of red light and was sent flying through the air and landed unceremoniously on the ground ahead.

Narcissa's angry eyes shifted onto the other Death Eaters, daring any one of them to help her husband up. None did, but they stared at him as he settled himself back on his feet and turned to face his wife.

"How dare you hex me!" He snarled angrily. Narcissa placed her hands on her hips and glared at him defiantly.

"I told you to leave me alone and what do you do? _You_"—she pointed her wand accusingly at him—"hexed me first! When I tell you to leave me alone just do it!" Lucius took a step forward.

"Well it's hard to ignore you when you're hanging in the background like some sad puppy, Narcissa!"

"How dare you, Lucius!" Narcissa shouted, now thoroughly enraged. She began marching toward her husband who in turn, started walking toward her. They closed the gap between each other to two feet before halting their footsteps. (The other Death Eaters moved back.)

"-You cold-hearted,"

"-You pigheaded,"

"-Egotistical,"

"-Mental,"

"-JERK!"

"- WENCH!" They shouted at the same time, causing the night sounds of the forest to suddenly go silent.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU, LUCIUS!" Narcissa screamed, completely beside herself with anger. "DON'T YOU HAVE AN OUNCE OF LOVE FOR YOUR SON?"

"JUST BECAUSE I DIDN'T START ACTING LIKE SOME SNIVELING FOOL!"

"FOOL?" Narcissa howled. "A FOOL, AM I? IS THAT WHAT I AM IN YOUR EYES, LUCIUS?"

Lucius crossed his arms.

"If the shoe fits, my dear," he said coldly.

Narcissa's mouth fell open and she stared at her husband with a look of utter disbelief. She could feel tears or both sorrow and anger welling up in her eyes. He saw them too.

"Lucius," her voice had lowered to an unsettling whisper. "I love you… and I have always stuck by your side no matter what, but if a fool is all I am to you… then you can stand alone from now on." With that said, Narcissa walked silently passed her husband and their stunned spectators. She knew they would be lucky if the spat between her and her husband had not alerted their targeted village, but at the moment she didn't care. She continued down the path toward the village as if walking into a soon-to-be massacre was as casual as a walk in the park.

**O**

Well there you all have it. I had some fun writing that party and now I am off to start up on the next chapter- oh yes! And also on my other stories, but first I would like to say:R.I.P Steve Irwin.


	6. A Dirty Needle

**Hello readers! Well I am back and I offer my deepest apologies for the long hiatus. My only excuse is that life got in the way. I hope everyone is enjoying Deathly Hallows. I know I did, and just so you all know, this fanfic will still plow on how I planned it and will take no inspiration from the real thing except for, perhaps, where and what the Horcruxes are. I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 6**

When Hermione walked down into the Gryffindor common room, she was greeted with a barrage of questions from Ron about the party. His genuine curiosity and seemingly endless questions followed Hermione all the way down to the dining hall, but abruptly came to a screeching halt when the owls dropped the latest issue of the _Daily Profit_ before the trio.

**Massive Muggle Massacre**

_Death Eaters commit there first muggle slaughter since the return of the Dark Lord. The message arrived at the Ministry of Magic at 12:42am this morning and since then Aurors have been working round the clock, trying to restore order. Upon entering the scene, the Death Eaters fled, leaving burning buildings, blood, and total chaos in their wake. No word on how many casualties have been confirmed, but hundreds of muggles have been recovered from the burning rubble critically injured and are being cared for in St. Mungo's Hospital of Magical Maladies and Injuries._

Hermione reread the article three more times before pushing it away from her, unable to look at it a forth time. An eerie silence befell the dinning hall of Hogwarts and the air was thick with tension. Nobody even dared to touch another morsel of their breakfasts. Sitting next to Harry, Hermione could feel his intense anger radiating off of him as if he had just shouted it out in an outburst. However, he remained silent, staring emotionlessly at the _Daily Prophet_.

Hermione knew what he was thinking. He was regretting his decision on returning to Hogwarts instead of staying and fighting the Death Eaters as his original plan. She thought maybe she should say something to remind him that what happened was not his fault in the least bit, but she knew that it would not be wise because he would likely explode and cause a huge scene. She decided to wait until they returned to the privacy of the boy's dorm.

Sad as the article made her, she knew that Harry was probably feeling absolutely shredded. She knew that he tended to blame himself often for things that were not his fault and she also knew that he has to vent that rage soon or else he'd bottle it up and release it at the wrong time. So she placed her hand comfortingly on his shoulder. She felt him flinch.

"Harry, lets go back to the dorm, ok?" She half expected him to wretch his shoulder away, saying he's fine, but he stood up and walked toward the entrance of the hall. She and Ron followed.

When they made it to the Gryffindor common room, they made a beeline for the boy's empty dormitories. Ron shut the dormitory door behind him and Hermione and, like he had flipped a switch by doing so, Harry erupted.

"I HAVE NO REASON TO BE HERE!" He boomed, kicking over his luggage and sending his belongings scattering across the floor.

Hermione was ready for the outburst and she guessed Ron was as well, because he gazed solemnly at his best friend.

"I SHOULD BE OUT THERE! HE WANTS ME! IF I HAD BEEN OUT THERE HE WOULD'VE BEEN TOO BUSY GOING AFTER ME TO EVEN THINK OF HURTING THOSE PEOPLE! THOSE PEOPLE DIDN'T HAVE TO DIE LIKE THAT!"

"I know, Harry," was all she could say. Ron's and her loyalty to Harry was truly confirmed in moments like these. To simply stand there and let him scream and rage on at them like this, to allow him to vent his anger on them was there way of showing him that they truly cared about him. They knew that any mean things he would say he didn't mean. They knew that better he released his emotions to people that would always forgive him afterward then on people who might resent him for it afterward.

"NO, YOU DON'T KNOW!" He raged on, this time chucking his wand across the room, sending red and gold sparks to fly from the tip when it collided into the opposite wall, in turn sending a lamp to go crashing to the floor.

"YOU STAND THERE, THINKING YOU TWO KNOW EVERYTHING, BUT YOU DON'T KNOW A DAMN THING!"

"You're right, mate," Ron said calmly.

"I BET MALFOY WAS ONE OF 'EM!" Harry boomed. "THE WHOLE MALFOY LOT, STANDING THERE, WITH SMUGGNESS ON THEIR UGLY FACES AS THEY CUT DOWN MUGGLE AFTER MUGGLE! THAT WHOLE STUPID FAMILY! I BET THAT DAMN BELLATRIX WAS THERE TOO! I BET SHE DID HER FAIR SHARE OF MUGGLES IN JUST LIKE SHE DID IN SIRIUS! BUT NO, YOU JUST HAD TO THROW THAT STUPID SUGGESTION OF COMING BACK HERE, WHEN I COULD BE OUT THERE FIGHTING FOR THOSE PEOPLE'S LIVES!"

Hermione didn't even flinch at his harsh blames that he threw at her. Sure, they scratched her up a bit deep down, but Hermione knew that Harry truly didn't mean to blame her.

"Harry, please don't blame yourself," she began, trying to keep her voice as soothing as could be. "Had you been out there, those people would've died anyway. There's nothing you could've done to stop that. Murdering muggles and mudbloods is what Voldemort does. Even with you out there, he'd do it anyway. Please try to understand that."

Her words seemed to calm Harry down a bit. He breathed harsh and rapidly, but was no longer raging and thrashing about like some wild bull. The trio stared at each other for a moment.

"I want to be alone for a bit, ok?" said Harry, breaking the short silence.

"That's fine, but when you need to talk… or vent some anger, we're here for you Harry. Don't forget that." Harry simply nodded before he exited the dormitories and headed off, presumably, to the room of Requirement.

The Sunday's _Daily Profit_ article did nothing to uplift the depressing weekend. With eighty-six muggles reported to have been found dead at the scene and seven more that had died in St. Mungo's, Hogwarts was cast in a dark rain cloud of fear and uncertainty. People often wondered that if the Death Eaters had this much power and willingness to end so many lives in one night, it was only a matter of time before they would start targeting "dirty" wizarding families again.

Ultimately, Hermione spent her whole weekend finishing up her homework and, just to be nice and hopefully lift Harry's mood, she did his and Ron's too. She had yet to talk to Viktor and thank him for taking her to the party, but she presumed that he was probably not feeling very chipper either after the article.

Though, she knew she had no reason to, Hermione couldn't help but feel a little guilty and even selfish with herself about what happened to the muggles. They were being attacked and killed around the same time she was crowd surfing, laughing, and getting alcohol rained down upon her.

Harry wasn't doing so well himself. By Saturday night he started talking again, but by Sunday morning, upon reading the _Daily Profit _his improving mood vanished as quickly as it started. He spent his whole Sunday, and evidently Saturday, down with Buckbeak. Hermione figured that Buckbeak reminded Harry a lot of Sirius and thus wanted to be close to the Hippogriff.

When Monday morning rolled around, Hogwarts' rain cloud was beginning to diminish among the student body. The Monday's issue of the _Daily Profit _didn't bring any wonderful news, but it also did not deliver any sad news. It talked briefly about the muggle massacre incident, but nothing outside of "Aurors working on replenishing the decimated village."

The Monday classes went on as usual with little to no mention of the Death Eaters. That was until the 7th year students entered their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Before even half the class took their seats, Viktor strode in and said, "No need to sit down! Ve're all heading outside today."

The Defense Against the Dark Arts class followed Viktor out of the room, down the many corridors along the way until they finally trooped out of the Entrance Hall. Viktor lead his class down to the outskirts of the forest and came to a halt just outside the trees.

"I vood like everyone to line up in a single file line," said Viktor.

Once everyone lined up and fell silent, Viktor reached into his pocket and extracted a tiny cage. The bars of the cage glowed brightly with a brilliant blue aura, obviously to keep whatever was inside it from reaching out or touching Viktor in anyway.

Viktor walked about six feet away from his class and set the cage down on the grass. He then pointed his wand at the cage and with a flick of his wand, the cage shot up in size and width.

Everyone in the line quickly recoiled backward, some actually falling over when all eyes fell on a struggling Dementor that resided inside the cage. Silvery-glowing handcuffs were attached to the Dementor's rotten-looking hands. The handcuffs themselves were attached to their own individual glowing chains that ran down the length of the Dementor's body and hooked to the floor of the cage, preventing the Dementor from raising its arms- serving as extra protection to prevent it from grabbing anyone.

"As I am sure you are all avare," Viktor began, his eyes surveying his students. "That Voldemort's Death Eater's haff gone after and destroyed many lives in just one night. For that reason, I haff decided to bring this Dementor out.

"It is common knowledge that the Dark Lord likes to use Dementors. That is why, after reading about vat happened, I haff decided that now, I think, is a fine time to learn how to deal vith the presence of a Dementor. Casting a Patronus for practice is quite different from casting it in the presence of a Dementor. Since you all haff done vell, I am feeling confident that this Dementor vill be nothing.

"I haff taken every precaution in this lesson; you are in no danger. However, you vill still feel the effects of the Dementor as you face it. You must conquer your vorst nightmares and the hopelessness that you vill feel, and remember your happiest memory. So, who vood like to go first?"

Hermione's well-practiced hand shot up first before anyone else's, which isn't saying much because she didn't have much competition.

"Very vell, Herm-own-ninny," said Viktor as he nodded his approval.

Hermione moved in front of Viktor and faced the Dementor. It jerked disturbingly at its chains as she moved before it. She could hear its hungry, rattling breath and she was already beginning to feel the creature's effects take hold of her. However, she quickly envisioned the wonderful memory of Harry and Ron saving her from the troll in the bathroom during their first year.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" She called out. Instantly, a glowing silver otter erupted from her wand and zipped through the air at the Dementor.

"Very good, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor praised as her otter vanished with a flick of his wand. "Now who is next?"

Harry had gone next and, unsurprisingly, easily produced his stag Patronus. Ron's turn had not gone so successfully. He stomped up to the Dementor scowling and grumpy looking, which is obviously not a good state to be in when trying to conjure up a happy memory. After a few tries, he managed to get the silver vapor to form a rough figure of a small dog, but it disappeared before it even got to the Dementor. Viktor praised him anyway, saying that he did well, but that only seemed to make Ron's features grow even colder.

Hermione beamed at Neville when his turn was over. After a brief hesitation, he had successfully produced a corporeal Patronus of a great bull elephant. The huge Patronus charged at the cage, its long tusks ready to strike. The confined Dementor in the cage struggled hard against its chains before the elephant was diminished with a flick from Viktor's wand. The fact that Neville's Patronus turned out to be an elephant had surprised Hermione, slightly, as she remembered seeing what had looked like a paw erupt from the puff of vapor Neville had cast last time. She decided to assume that the surrounding vapor last time had probably just played a trick of the eye.

The rest of the class time went on like that with some students performing better than some others. When class had ended, Viktor shrunk the confined Dementor and the cage back to the miniscule size it was when class started and tucked it away in his pocket.

"You did very vell, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor said as he walked up to the castle alongside Hermione (Ron had stormed off and Harry had gone after him).

"Thank you," she replied. "Viktor, I wanted to say thank you for taking me to that party. I had a lot of fun."

Viktor smiled brightly down at Hermione.

"I did as vell. Ve vill haff to do it again."

"I'd like that," said Hermione, returning Victor's bright smile with a warm one of her own.

* * *

Having just finished his bowl of soup that his mother had sent down to him, Draco laid on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling of his dungeon room. His beloved napkin clutched tightly and protectively in his hand. 

Many thoughts danced through his mind and, because of his newly found strength, those thoughts included escape and defiance. He ventured through some ideas of just running full speed out the dungeon door the second it opened, but of course that would probably just get him killed. Apparation was definitely out of the question. Obviously Voldemort would have put up spells to prevent him from simply Apparating himself to freedom.

His mind then took a turn in the direction toward his moment when he refused to give into the Dark Lord and his Cruciatus Curse, calling him a colorful name in the process. He often visited this memory to make himself smile proudly. However, ever since that day, Draco noticed that biting through the painful curse was getting a little easier. Painful as it still was, it was like his stomach was not getting shredded apart _as _much as before nor did his blood feel like it was going to melt away his organs _as_ much anymore.

During the last few of the Dark Lord's "punishments" Draco found that he was able to keep himself from screaming in agony. His tongue and lips had swollen up a bit as a result of his biting teeth to keep his screams down, but it was worth it. And all this was all thanks to his beloved mother, whom he had come to think of as his guardian angel.

Suddenly, the horrid light that he had grown to hate so much shown in and illuminated his "safe haven of darkness." However, there was something odd about this occasion. Voldemort did not enter this time. In his place, three rather large bodied Death Eaters hurried in. This caught Draco off guard. This was not the normal routine.

"What's going on?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as confident as possible. Instead of answering, two of the Death Eaters broke into a run and rushed at Draco. Stunned by this unusual turn of events, he did not react quickly enough and both his arms were seized by two of the large Death Eaters and they attempted to wrestle him to the ground.

"_What do you want with me?_" Draco shouted as he fought hard to keep his footing. He desperately tried to wrench his arms out of the Death Eater's iron grip, shouting all sorts of obscenities and demands. He twisted and pulled and strained until a sickening pop sound erupted from both of his shoulders followed by immediate pain. He gasped sharply, ceasing his relentless struggles for a brief second. That brief second was plenty of time for the two men to force Draco's face headlong into the ground. Upon impact, Draco turned his face as far around as his neck would allow.

"_What the hell are y-_" he froze, his breath freezing in his lungs. The third Death Eater was crouching down beside Draco and in his hand, a large needle that muggles use to inject medicine into their bodies. What that needle contained, Draco hadn't the foggiest, but he was dead certain that it was anything _but_ medicine.

For reasons beyond Draco's knowledge, Voldemort had obviously ordered them to inject something into his spine and whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Instantly, any and all boldness he withheld moments ago had vanished completely.

"NO!" He cried out as he again began to struggle and fight, trying to wretch himself free from the two bounding Death Eaters. The pain in his shoulders became nonexistent, but struggling became all the more difficult as he found that he no longer had the use of his arms.

"Please, no! Don't do this! Please don't!" He kicked and fought as hard as he could. His legs thrashed about hither and thither, but it was to no avail. His world seemed to freeze up completely when he felt the pinch of the needle pierce his skin. He had failed. Whatever vile thing Voldemort wanted injected into his system had been injected.

Draco did not have much more time to contemplate what would happen to him now because instantaneously, pain beyond the Cruciatus Curse overcame his body and he was sent reeling into a spiraling void of intensive agony.

The pain seemed to sap any and all energy from his body. He didn't even have the strength to scream. His arms and legs flailed about on their own accord as a result of rippling muscle spasms that overtook his whole body. He screwed his eyes shut; praying for death or sleep, whichever came first didn't matter to him, anything to escape the pain.

How long he writhed and squirmed on the ground, he didn't know. He wasn't even aware that the three men had left the dungeon. The only thing he was aware of was the torturous pain in his body. He wanted to die, he wanted to beg for death; to call out for someone to come down and end his misery as if he were some old horse with a broken leg. But alas, his mouth was already wide open in a silent scream, but no sound came out.

Suddenly, he felt a firm gloved hand grip both his shoulders and hoisted him up into a sitting position. He felt his stomach coil up and the contents from within spilled out from, not just his mouth, but his nose as well, spilling vomit all done his front.

Whoever was holding him up did not flinch away from the sick that splashed onto his own robes. He simply said: "Draco, I want you to take this," as he brought a goblet to his lips. The smell made Draco retch again, but luckily the man removed the goblet from his lips before any vomit could spill into it.

Draco turned his sad, fearful gray eyes upon the stranger's face. No emotion came to him upon seeing the face. His mind was too lost, too stressed to care who the person was, but he was able to comprehend who the face belonged to.

"Sss-" Before he could say the person's name, pure, yellow bile spilled from his mouth yet again. He could feel the stomach acid already beginning to irritate the skin on his face and his nostrils burned from the bile that had flowed through them.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS ON THAT NEEDLE?!" Draco quickly shouted at the top of his lungs before anymore bile poured out. Snape's beetle black eyes bore into Draco's gray ones, but he only replied with, "Draco, take this," he brought the goblet to Draco's lips again.

Draco tried to take it, but his body shook too hard with uncontrollable muscle spasms as if he were having a seizure. Most of the liquid had slopped down his chin and he nearly drowned on what little did get to his throat because he was unable to swallow, which caused him to start reeling into a fit of dry heaves. Obviously his stomach had been drained of anything inside it for the time being.

His hands covered in his own sick, Draco clutched onto Snape's robes as tightly as his twitching fingers would allow. Draco breathed deeply, forcing his lungs to cooperate with him so he could form audible words to the best of his ability.

"T-t-tell…m-m-me…n-needle…"

Snape's face was marble white as he stared down into Draco's pained and anguished features. He could feel the boy's body shaking as he supported him in his arms.

"Be strong, Draco," was all he said. Draco's eyes widened at Snape's most unhelpful reply.

Draco's surprised expression must have struck something deep down in Snape, because he seemed to be unable to look into Draco's face any longer. The next thing Draco knew, there was a wand pointed at his face and the second he gave Snape one last pleading look, he fell into darkness.


	7. Bloody Pincushion

_A/N: Please forgive the long wait. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 7**

Thursday afternoon found Hermione diligently peeling through pages of hundreds of books in the library. She did not have a class that time of the day so she had decided to get back to combing through thousands of lines of texts to find something, anything, on Horcruxes. She had searched tirelessly last year in search of info on Horcruxes, but proved unsuccessful. Having done all her homework, Ron and Harry now doing their's, and Viktor currently teaching a class, she decided that she'd make herself useful and try, once again, to find something.

Within the hour, two piles sat idly to her sides. To her left sat a stack of books that she had discarded, deciding that they were utterly useless in her search while the other, to her right, was a stack of books that she had yet to comb through. The former of the piles was beginning to grow taller and taller in height.

As another hour went by, Hermione shut the final book that she had extracted from the "unread pile" and, with a huff, dropped it onto the now towering Discard Pile. Hermione then lowered her tired, clouded head onto her arms and sighed sadly.

'_Dumbledore must have taken every precaution of students finding out about Horcruxes in the library,'_ she said irritably to herself. _'But there must be a way… some way to learn more.'_

Suddenly a thought rocketed through Hermione's mind so un-expectantly that she almost fell out of her chair in shock. _'How could I have been so blind; so stupid?' _She berated herself as she gathered her things as fast as her hands could go and sped out of the library, ignoring Madam Pince's hostile shrieks over Hermione leaving all her books on the table.

Hermione dashed through the many corridors, zipped around various corners and came skidding to a stop outside Viktor's classroom. She waited outside the door for the bell to ring, signaling the students from within to move on to their next class. She did not have to wait long because within a mere few minutes, the bell sounded and the students came flooding out.

When Hermione was certain that the class was empty aside from Viktor, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves and then stepped into the classroom. She saw Viktor sitting at his desk, evidentially grading some essays from his last class.

"Herm-own-ninny!" Viktor called, looking up from the parchment that he had just graded with an 'E'. "Vat can I do for you?"

Hermione did not answer right away. She strode all the way over to where Viktor sat at his desk, took one last look around to make sure no one else was in the room and then said, "Viktor, I was wondering if I could ask you something. That is, I need some information on something and I was hoping that, well, maybe you could help me."

"Of course, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor replied. Viktor eyed Hermione with genuine curiosity, which was starting to make Hermione feel a little uncomfortable. She only hoped that that look of silent curiosity would not turn into a look of outrage after she asked her question.

"Viktor, they taught the Dark Arts at Durmstrang, correct?" Viktor nodded.

"Well," she was feeling very uncomfortable now. She silently prayed that he wouldn't think badly of her after this question. "I was wondering if you knew anything about…about Horcruxes."

Whatever Viktor had been expecting Hermione to ask, it was not that. The quill he had been holding fell to the polished wood surface of his desk and he raised his eyebrows, staring at Hermione. Hermione took notice that even his jaw dropped slightly. Viktor then stood up from his desk and maneuvered around it to stand face-to-face with Hermione.

"Herm-own-ninny, that is very dark magic. Vhy vood you be vanting to know about that?" His look of silent curiosity had transformed into a hard look of suspicion. His dark eyes bore down upon her, making her feel four feet shorter.

"It's not what you think!" Hermione hastily added. "I don't plan on making one or anything! I just-" Viktor's eyes grew colder- "I just, well, actually I want to learn how to destroy them and what to watch out for."

Viktor studied her for a moment. His dark eyes were beginning to fade away from their cold, intimidating sharpness they held just seconds ago, but he had yet to abandon his stern gaze.

"Herm-own-ninny, I am thinking I know you vell enough to know that you vouldn't make one. That is not vat is concerning me. Vat concerns me is vhy you vould be including yourself on subjects such as Horcruxes." His eyes grew sharp again as he stared into her own eyes. Hermione was beginning to get the horrible feeling that he was trying to read her mind.

'_Oh I hope he doesn't know Legilimency.'_ Hermione thought to herself. It was then that it dawned on her that she did not know if he could or not. She began to avoid his eyes, praying that she did not just give herself away. _'Stupid, stupid! Why didn't you think of the possibility of him knowing Legilimency?'_

"Herm-own-ninny, I vant you to know that you may alvays come to me if you ever haff any questions. For this reason, I vill answer your question. I am sure that you are avare of just how evil a Horcrux is- yes?" Hermione nodded.

"Vell, there is only one fool-proof vay of destroying a Horcrux and that is to destroy it vith something so destructive that the Horcrux can not repair itself. Ripping, smashing, or crushing the Horcrux von't vork. It must be destroyed beyond magical repair. It must be destroyed vith something like Basilisk or Acromantula venom, or Fiendfyre. Do you understand Herm-own-ninny?"

Hermione nodded her head. At that moment she could feel an odd mixture of emotion bubbling beneath her surface. She felt glad and thankful of the fact that she finally now knows how to destroy Horcruxes, but at the same time, slightly down-trotted. Where would they possibly get Acromantula or Basilisk venom? Well, actually she knew how to get both of those venoms, however one would require her and friends risking their lives in the Forbidden Forest (Ron would definitely not be up for that) and the latter's venom, would require reentering the Chamber of Secrets, which would be a pretty big risk. It isn't like students are welcome to go down there at their leisure. And attempting to use Fiendfyre was completely out of the question. She'd have to think on this one.

"Thank you so very much, Viktor. You have no idea how much I appreciate this." Viktor nodded mutely. As Hermione turned and headed for the door (perhaps a little faster than she intended to) she could feel Viktor's stern, dark eyes on her retreating back.

As quick as Hermione could go, she hurried down the various corridors until she made it to the stone staircase leading to the Gryffindor common room. Once there, she found Harry and Ron playing Wizard's Chess. Their half-touched homework lay forgotten off to the side.

"I have loads to tell you!" Hermione cried as she hurried over to where the boys sat. The boys looked up, half startled at Hermione's sudden appearance.

"What happened?" Harry asked as Hermione sat down between him and Ron. After checking around to make sure no one was close enough to listen, Hermione retold her whole story in a hushed voice.

"I can't believe you went to ask Krum about this," said Ron scornfully.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't know what else to do," Hermione replied in a pleading voice. "I've been looking endlessly in the library for anything on them and I couldn't find anything. We need to find out as much about them as we can and I thought of Viktor and… well…" Hermione faded off; now starting to feel guilty at the disapproving look Harry was giving her.

"Oh please don't look at me like that, Harry. I never told him my reason for wanting to know. I didn't tell him what we plan on doing-"

"It's fine, Hermione," said Harry, while trying to plaster on a reassuring smile, but Hermione could tell right off the bat that it was fake. "It's better this way then going at it blind, right?"

**O**

Slowly, consciousness began to return to Draco, but his eyelids remained shut. He could feel the chilly, hard earth underneath his body. He could also feel the immense soreness that had overtaken his joints and muscles. Of course, it was not anywhere near the pain he had experienced hours ago, but it still made it quite uncomfortable to move.

He breathed deeply, quite surprised that he was still alive. From the pain he had gone through, he was sure that his organs would've shut down on him. He was positive that his heart, under all the stress, would have stopped beating. However, there he was, alive but not necessarily kicking.

His face felt sticky and uncomfortably caked with a mixture of dry and muddy substances. Slowly and with great effort, he lifted his fatigue arm to feel his face. That's when he remembered that his shoulders had been dislocated. Draco decided to assume that, while he was unconscious, Snape had popped them back into place.

His fingers traced along his now gaunt face. They felt the muddy texture of a substance that he had hoped was just mud. As his fingers crawled up, they came across a different texture. It was dry and slightly crusty. He could feel it leaving a trail from his eyelids, nose, and mouth. Was it blood?

His fingers then left his face and trailed down his throat where more of the crusty, muddy substances had gone. He winced from the pain on his skin. It felt like he had just touched a fresh bruise. It was then that he realized his whole backside was screaming to get away from the ground's contact. With a great heave, he forced his reluctant body to turn over in an attempt to relieve his back from the ground's contact. He immediately regretted doing so when his side met the ground and with a sharp intake of breath, he flopped back over on his back. He felt like one big bruise.

'_What the hell was in that needle?_' he mentally questioned. What could they have possibly injected into him that had caused him so much horrific pain? What could have turned his body into one big bruise? What had caused him to vomit so much and even, judging by what he felt, bleed from his eyes, nose, and mouth?

He heard and felt his angry, empty stomach growl furiously, demanding for sustenance, but after all the retching he had done; eating again was the last thing on his mind. Judging by his severe hunger pains, he had been out for quite some time, perhaps even days.

His temples throbbed, his throat ached, and his lips felt as dry and as chapped as ever. His body screamed for water. Judging by all this, he decided that he was _definitely_ unconscious for a few days. With no water or food, he was quite dehydrated and severely uncomfortable.

Hours slipped by as Draco lay there, miserably awake, his mind mulling over whatever substance they had injected into him and why. And then, a thought occurred to Draco.

When Voldemort had given him the near impossible task of killing Albus Dumbledore, he, Voldemort, had no intention of Draco succeeding. What was worse, he threatened him with the lives of his family if he did not succeed, causing Draco a whole year of agony and stress. When that year had ended and he arrived at the Death Eater's hideout, he was immediately dragged away from his parents and thrown in here. The day after that, he began torturing him day after day. When Draco finally started resisting the Cruciatus Curse, Voldemort resulted in having him get injected with that needle, causing him more agony than before. It was like Draco was some kind of pin cushion- constantly getting another pin jabbed in him every time things seemed like they couldn't get any worse.

Draco gasped… that's exactly what he was. Every time he turned around, Voldemort would do something worse to him than before- like jabbing another pin into him, almost like he was testing how many pins he could push in before all of Draco's stuffing (or in this case, his strength and defiance) would come spilling out. Instead of being treated like some old dog, like Draco originally believed, he was actually getting treated like something that wasn't even a living thing- a bloody pin cushion.

Draco stared out into the darkness, seething with ugly hatred. Exactly how long he laid there he had no idea, but like all the other times, his mind was snapped back to reality as the dreaded flash of light shown in and split the room in half. He unconsciously winced away. Words could not describe his hatred of that light. After all the times it's brought him so much horrific pain and torture, the light had securely labeled itself as an enemy to Draco.

"Ah… Draco, finally awake I see," said Voldemort's cold, cruel voice.

Draco could feel a mixture of horrific fear and intense rage rear up inside him all at once. There was only one thing he detested more than the light and that was the creature that came striding into his safe-haven of darkness.

"Come." For a brief second, Draco thought Voldemort was talking to him. When he had glanced over at the approaching Dark Lord, he saw that he was speaking to three Death Eaters. To Draco's immense horror, he recognized one of the Death Eaters as his mother; his guardian angel.

**O**

Narcissa Malfoy couldn't help but allow a strained moan escape her lips when she set eyes on her haggard-looking son. She was positively stunned at how different from _her_ Draco that he now looked. She was under the impression that he couldn't look any worse than the last time she had saw him- she was morbidly wrong.

Her eyes were wide with nothing but sheer horror as she examined his face from afar. She felt absolutely revolted at the site of him. His face was covered in blood and vomit, the former looking like it had come from his eyes, nose, and mouth. The vomit and blood had traveled down his black and purple throat, staining his already immensely tattered old shirt that he sported.

Her horrified eyes drank in his still body that remained motionless on the floor. His skin, which was extremely pale the last time she saw him, had changed to a disgusting mixture of purple and black. Not one part of visible skin remained unmarked. His whole body was just one big bruise.

She could barely stand listening to him breath. He sounded like a dying old man rather than a lively seventeen-year-old. Then their eyes met. His had grown colder and sadder than she ever could have imagined. They appeared almost cloudy-looking. If he wasn't looking her dead in the eyes she'd believe him to have developed cataracts or something.

"What have you done to him?" she moaned out before she could stop herself.

She had just realized she had a river of tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Restrain her," was all Voldemort said in reply.

**O**

To Draco's horror, one of the big, burly Death Eater's seized his mother's arms and clamped them behind her back. She shrieked angrily and began to struggle.

Draco, forgetting his immensely bruised body, sat up quickly and said, "Take-your hands-off-her," in a dangerously low voice.

Voldemort simply sneered at Draco before turning his wand, not on Draco like Draco expected, but on Narcissa. Voldemort snapped his fingers and hissed, "_Crucio_."

Instantaneously, Narcissa let out an ear-piercing scream and sunk to her knees. Her screams sparked something inside Draco. So much hatred, so much anger and grief and regret all at once; it consumed him. It was like a pair of heavy weights had been fastened around his ankles, pulling him down, down underneath a surface of thick, blood-red rage.

Before Draco could even realize what he was doing, he was on his feet and charging, not at Voldemort, but at the Death Eater who had dared to put his filthy, unworthy hands on Draco's mother. The second Death Eater quickly seized Draco by his shoulders. As Draco struggled for freedom, his eyes met with Voldemort's.

Voldemort stared back into Draco's eyes for a brief moment. He then smiled coldly at Draco, and then lowered his wand. Narcissa collapsed on the ground, whimpering silently.

"I think that will do," he said calmly.

The Death Eater holding Draco cautiously released him and hurried after his master, followed by the man whom held Narcissa. Narcissa, however, remained on the ground still whimpering, but Draco got the feeling that she was no longer weeping over the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse.

The aches and pains of his body returned full swing. It was as if the mere action of standing could crumple his battered body to the ground. However, the site of his distraught mother, weeping on the ground was enough to keep him standing.

The last time he had been able to lay eyes on her was when, he thought, had been a dream. After that moment he had been receiving good food, presumably, from her. And now here she lay, so close to him. Within a few steps he could hug her. He had missed her so much.

Ignoring his body's shrill screams of pain, he hurried over to his mother and dropped to his knees beside her.

"_Mother_?" said his harshly strained voice. Narcissa's body clenched up and then, slowly, she raised her face to stare at her now up-close son. When their eyes met she made a strange sort of squeak noise. If Draco hadn't known better, he would've said it sounded like she had just tried to hold down a shriek of terror.

"_What have they done to you_?" she cried out, shaking her head so hard that her tears splattered Draco in the face.

"They…mother…" Draco looked at her earnestly. He could feel the array of her emotions radiating off her shivering body. He could feel them so clearly, like a breeze hitting his face. He had never seen or _felt _so much despair on one person. It shredded away at his heart. "They injected me… with something from…a muggle needle."

Judging by her horrified expression, she was not aware of this arrangement until that moment. Narcissa then grabbed handfuls of her white-blonde hair, her mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Draco got the feeling that she was fighting off the temptation to hug him in fear that she'd hurt his bruised body; he wish she wouldn't.

"I don't know what it was, but…" he paused, wondering if he should continue. He noticed that she had frozen, staring at the ground, silently signaling that she was listening. "It hurt… a lot."

Narcissa peered up at him again, her eyes blood shot and still leaking with tears. Her face had contorted into a look of anguish and horror as she examined his face, taking silent note of the purple, vomit, and blood that had taken the place of his once pale complexion.

It was then Draco noticed something strange. His mother's body was quivering and shaking, from more than just anguish. Her teeth chattered as if she were freezing. He could also see her breath as a cloud of vapor expelling from her mouth every time she exhaled. However, even though he clearly was breathing as well, he could not see clouds of his own breath. He didn't even feel any sort of chill that had obviously befallen the room.

"Mother?" he felt stupid for what he was about to ask. "Is it… is it cold in here?"

Narcissa sat bolt upright as if startled. Then, it hit Draco, she was freezing-cold and he felt completely at room temperature. That thought alone scared Draco like nothing else had.

"Draco…" she finally spoke. "I am so sorry. I am entirely to blame for this," said Narcissa, her voice laced and cracking with sadness. She then got up to her feet gingerly took Draco's purple hands within her own. "Please… I want you to run away. When we get out there, I will create a distraction while you Disapparate."

Draco's eyes left his mother's face and stared out into the brightly lit corridor beyond his dungeon door. The thought of leaving his "save haven of darkness" and moving into the light was unthinkable to Draco. The thought of the light caused horrific images of him being tortured to flicker through his mind.

Draco's eyes met his mother's and he shook his head. He then backed away from her, receding into the darkness and away from the light.

"I see…" Said Narcissa sadly, gazing earnestly at her son's terrified face. "It is the light, isn't it?"

Draco said nothing. Narcissa took his silence as a confirmation of her statement, and silently headed for the door. Her feet moved unsteadily, her head bowed low. When she reached the door, she turned around to stare back at her watching son.

"I should have killed you while I had the chance," and with that, she stepped over the threshold and shut the door, leaving her stunned son alone in his darkness. Only one thing went through Draco's clouded, frozen mind; Voldemort had jabbed yet another pin into him.


End file.
